Searching for the Truth
by SMS13
Summary: UPDATED! Sometimes a lifetime together isn't enough to fix a broken love... Carter and Abby, twenty-five years later...
1. Living the Lie

_**Author's Notes: Okay, new fic. I'm on chapter nine, so expect updates.... I'm working ahead, so I know what happens and you'll have to wait around and find out... Please read and review. This chapter is sorta bah because it's an introduction, but believe me, it starts moving along nicely in about two chapters or so....**_

I finished stirring the sugar in the two cups of tea. I had my customary two teaspoons, Amy had her two and a half. I slid the steaming hot cup toward her on the marble counter top, and she pulled out the long sleeves her sweater to create a barrier between her and the hot cup. She looked so different from the last time I had seen her, almost a month ago. I hate to say it, but my daughter looks exactly like me, except for the height. She definitely inherited her father's height. She had the long brown hair, brown eyes, small frame. She had a little muscle on her body, after all she had grown up with twin brothers. She learned how to fight back. She had a cute round face, with dimples in her cheeks when she smiled. And she did that a lot. Since she was the first born, she was always the experiment, but she had come out wonderfully. I can't believe my daughter is almost 22 years old. She's finishing her last year at Harvard, then going off to Medical School. We had both warned her about it for so many years, but she's stubborn. She wants to follow in her parent's footsteps. "So where is everyone?"  
I took a slow sip from my cup and looked around. Where was everyone? Great question. The house had been decorated the week before, the Christmas lights were put up, the presents wrapped and stashed under the tree. No one was needed, except for Amy and she was here. We need to start preparing for tomorrow's Christmas Eve dinner, a tradition we've had since her first Christmas, where she ended up throwing the frosting all over the floor and her face. "Rob's out with Mille on the horses. Jack's flying in with his new girlfriend tonight. Ethan's off last minute Christmas shopping with dad. And you're here with me."

Robert Andrew Carter and John Truman Carter IV were my twins, born only two years after Amy. They just turned twenty. Rob stayed in Chicago, a student at Loyola. Rob was always the better one of the two. He would always try to make everyone happy, take the blame for anyone, do anything he could to help out. He really was a great kid growing up. Jack, on the other hand, was a royal pain in the ass. He was the youngest one for a while, and he hated it. Even when he was a baby, he would be the only one crying in the middle of the night. I almost threw him out a window or gave him up for adoption. Jack had to defy Amy, so he went to her rival school, Yale. He's going into law, unless he decides to split and become a male stripper or a porn star, which wouldn't be below him. I know my kids well enough. Both boys look like their father, except that Rob has that more casual, comfortable look about him, whereas Jack has that rugged, has-it-all, and knows he's hot attitude to him. Sometimes I just want to hit him over the head. Every time we get together, he has a new girlfriend. He can't handle a relationship for more than six weeks. 

"I don't think there's a place I'd rather be more."

A smile popped up on Amy's face and she eased onto the counter, putting her head in her hands and smiling at me. She's done the same thing since she was tall enough to sit on the chairs. She reminds me more of the toddler I had to chase around the house than my beautiful adult daughter. We've grown so close, we've been through so much. I've gone from being the mother in charge, to being her best friend. The feeling's definitely mutual. It was strange at first, but she's above her years. She's the easiest person to talk to and the most compassionate. When she left for school, it was so silent without her laughter through the halls. I'm not saying I don't love my other children all equally. I love my planned children as well as my accidents. Cue Ethan. I thought three was enough. I barely made it through the first two. Hell, I barley survived Amy. I was so worried, I didn't sleep. I didn't eat. I paced all night long. I was worried about being a bad mother, about passing on the bipolar gene to her, to all my children. Every pregnancy got worse and worse. I don't know why I went through with it. Well, until I held my baby daughter, and realized it was all worth it. But Ethan, Ethan has always been the "perfect" one in the family. He's a great student, captain of the football team, and yes, dating the cheerleading captain. He's got it all, attitude, looks, kindness. We tease him all the time. It comes with the territory. Soon he'll be going off to college too, and it will be just me and Millie. He's still got about six months.

Millie's the baby of the family, she's only fourteen. She was definitely unplanned, just to add to disaster. I found out I was pregnant the week they began to repaint the house and we went on vacation. I spent the whole time with my head in a toilet instead of on a sunny beach because of my fun morning sickness. Then we came home, and I couldn't stay there because we didn't want to take a chance with the fumes. It was the worst timing ever. But nonetheless, she turned out great. She's a lot more sporty than Amy, she hates dresses and formal dinners. She'd rather wear a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. She does a lot of sports, but of course that was foreseen, having 3 older brothers. My large, ever growing, wonderful family. It would be chaos as soon as everyone gets together for dinner tomorrow.

I hear the door slam and the sound of bags being dropped, coats being hung, and shoes kicked to the side echoes through the huge mansion. I hated the place at the beginning, it was so huge, way too many hallways and rooms, but having almost ten people living in the house, including the staff, made it perfect. And if I hadn't suggested having the nanny move in with us back then, I would have had one more little rug-rat on my hands, since he was determined to find a use for every single room. Carter enters the room, flakes of snow still unmelted in his salt and pepper hair. I see Amy get up and run into his open arms, she's three again, waiting for her daddy to get home so he can play with her. Although we'd never admit it, Amy's probably our spoiled one.

"Daddy!!"

He kisses her and picks her up lightly, spinning her around. She lets out a burst of giggles to accompany his laughter.

"Welcome back, princess."

No, she's not spoiled at all. I roll my eyes at him and he laughs all the louder. He puts her down and she wraps her arm around his waist and walks with him toward me. He places a kiss on my cheek and then leans against the counter.

"So what are my two favorite girls up to?"

Amy slides into her chair, smile plastered to her face. I take her now empty cup and put it into the sink. I look around at the array of food items set out on the counter. We have a lot of work to do, and not a lot of time. I always hated cooking, but my family loves it, so I'll make the sacrifice once in a while.

"We've got a lot of work, daddy. So you'd probably be better off going to lie down. We might hurt you when we get going."

I stifle a laugh and he lets out a dejected face. Amy kisses him on the cheek and he turns around, happy that he doesn't have to help. I just hope he remember to pick up Jack and his latest squeeze in three hours. I hand Amy an apron and she pulls the first string around her black turtleneck, and then ties the strings right on the edge of her dark blue jeans. Next she's handed a bowl and a whisk, which she takes and starts to slowly whip the ingredients together.

"So how's everything between you and daddy?"

I knew the question was coming, but I thought she would wait at least till after the holidays to ask about it. I turn away toward the refrigerator, searching for more milk that we don't need. I hide behind the open door for a second, I let out a deep breath. We had agreed to pretend everything was working out for the kids, but almost entirely and only for Amy. She heard the screaming match we had a few months ago, and questioned us about it. It was hard pretending everything was alright. It really wasn't. Hell, she would flip if she knew I had a drink a few nights ago when I was home alone. I shut the door. I plaster my best fake smile, but I know Amy reads right through it.

"Mom."

I shrug my shoulders, this time trying my impassive expression. It seems to pacify her for a minute or so. 

"Are you getting a divorce?

"We don't know yet."

We honestly don't know yet. The question had come up, neither one of us seemed too willing, but not against it either. Maybe it would be good for us. We would still be a family, regardless of where we were. We both loved our children, and they would never feel the effects of the divorce. They would simply have to get used to not spending a week at the house with both of us there.

"Mom, please. Talk to me."

I turn away from her, looking for something to busy myself across the kitchen. I walk over and turn the stove on to warm. I take another bowl and throw two cups of flour, some flavoring, salt, baking powder, water. I'm not really paying attention now, I've done these recipes too many times. How am I supposed to talk to my daughter when I don't know myself what is going on.

"Amy, it's complicated. You wouldn't be able to understand."

I watch her lay out the cookie batter on the counter, and start cutting out shapes with the metal frames. She's frustrated by the look on her face, and I don't think its because of the cookies. What am I supposed to tell her?

"So explain it to me."

I take the first set of cookies and place them into the oven. I then begin to pull out the rest of the ingredients for the bread I had to begin to knead. I could feel my daughter's gaze on my back. I was now afraid of facing my own daughter. She wouldn't be able to understand it. I say that with all honesty. How am I supposed to tell her that her father never really loved me? That I was more of a security blanket, something to keep him warm at night? Maybe he had loved me before, maybe we would have turned out differently. But I wasn't the one he wanted to be with. It wasn't that bad at the beginning, I just kept on convincing myself we'd win back what we had.

"I can't explain it to you, because I can't explain it to myself... But let me tell you this much. Your dad's still young. He's got a hell of a life in front of him still, and he deserves to find happiness, because, Amy, that happiness is not going to be with me. I've gone through enough to know I can be on my own. Your dad... Your dad has so much inside of him, so much to offer someone... He's a good man, Amy. You know that marriages don't always last forever. We'd both be a lot better off. And whatever happens, none of you will be loved any more or less. You are our children, we'll always love you."

I saw her begin to bite on her bottom lip, but that's the best answer I could have given anyone at this point. He doesn't love me. I've come to terms with it.

"What about a separation? Do you have to turn to a divorce so quickly?"

I know my daughter means well, she wants to save our failing marriage. But there's nothing she can do at this point. Carter and I haven't talked in weeks, besides the formalities. We haven't been able to spend time together for years. We've only stayed together for the kids. But three of them are already gone, Amy's on her way to starting her own family. Ethan is off to college next year, and Millie's old enough to understand. We're not bad parents, we're just bad as a couple.

"We've spent the last twenty years separating."


	2. Facing Reality

_**Author's Notes: Thanks to everyone who reviewed... I'm glad you liked it... Just keep with me... I know where this is all going, I just finished chapter ten and I'm moving along quite nicely... So just bear with all the pain and tears and outrage and keep reading.. Pretty please?! And please review... Now off to the main presentation.... **_

I played with the cup, there was nothing left to do. After a long and eventful day, including an unexpected visitor, I was beat. I was the only one left sitting in the living room. The tree glowed with lights and ornaments, the hallways were decorated with holly and mistletoe. It looked like a picture from a fairy tale, or a movie with a really high budget. I don't think I've ever just sat back and taken it all in. The flames play and crackle against the logs in the fireplace, but it would slowly die down, and I would be left only with the candles spread out across the room to light my way. I should be tired, and I am, but I know I won't be able to fall asleep. This might be our last official Christmas as a real family. I don't know where Carter and I are heading. We're like a road that had begun to separate in two different directions.

I think back on everyone in the house. Amy's in my room, since we're boarding Jacks' girlfriend in her room. The twins got their own rooms, along with Ethan and Millie. Dad even came home, to most of our surprises. I've always had a strong relationship with Jack, he's really great. I know John and him have their differences, but I always seem to end up on Jack's side. Maybe its because I never knew my father, and he accepted me with arms wide open. Whatever the case may be, it was a pleasant surprise. We put dad into Carter's room, and Carter took the spare bedroom. He said I could have it, but he needed a good night's sleep. He had worked the night before, and he seemed tired all during dinner. It's funny, we haven't slept in the same room for years. I think it was right before Amy left for school, that we somehow got separate rooms, and separate beds. Only heaven knows when the last time we made love was. We were the picture perfect family on the outside, but on the inside, behind all the lies, we were falling apart faster than ever.

Our housekeeper, Grace, had also come home to be here on Christmas. I told her she didn't need to be, but after a little digging, I found out she had no place to go. Her sons were already grown up, and didn't feel like dealing with their mother on top of grouchy wives and annoying children. So I invited her to spend it with us, she was almost a part of the family. She had been with the Carter's ever since John as a little kid. She was excited by it, and she would never know how thankful I was for everything she's ever done for us.

So now I was out of a bed and room. I didn't mind it too. I could probably slip into the other side of bed with Carter, but that would be so awkward in the morning. I'll just sleep on the couch in the den, and get an early morning started. I heard footsteps behind me, the sound of slippers on the marble floors. It was barely audible, since there was a light jazz CD on the background. I flipped around to see who it might be, and he made his way toward me. My husband put out his hand, as if asking me to dance, but I simply rolled my eyes at him. He had these moments where he would try to convince me that everything was okay. We both knew it was way past salvageable. I watched his hand slowly fall limp and his side, and he took the cup from my hand. I knew he could smell the liquor from the cup, much more from my breathe. It definitely wasn't my first of the night. He tossed the crystal glass into the fire, shattering pieces flying over the hearth, and onto the floor. The alcohol only made the fire grow fiercer, burn longer. He wandered up the stairs, and a few seconds later, I heard another set of feet, this time, I knew who it was.

"Amy, go back to bed."

I heard her walk closer to me, but she halted at my side. I didn't want to look up at her, because I felt my tears welding up in my eyes. She had probably heard what had happened. Carter would never hit me, he channeled his anger by ignoring me, by working, by going to the gym. He had never raised a hand to me, and he probably never will. I can't say that I wasn't afraid at that split second that he might loose it all together. I'm not sure what he's capable of just yet. I bow my head and let my hair cover my eyes, giving me more control over the situation. I see something drop into my lap, a worn piece of paper, that looks ages old. Amy turns around and leaves, the creak in the stairs the most certain sign. I wipe away the tears that fell, and reach for the paper Amy left. I start to unfold it, being careful of the creases. It looks like its been through hell. What if its an old letter Amy wrote to us, telling us what horrible parents we were, or how much she hated us when she was younger. I don't know what to expect. I can't expect the unexpected. I've never been good at that.

I open the paper in the dim light, barley making out the handwriting. I search for the date that doesn't exist. The opening words send me rolling back in time. Dear Abby... By the time you read this letter, Luka should be safe in America and you'll probably be wondering why I'm not with him... No. Not now. Amy might have through it would make things better, but in reality, it only makes things worse. He left me for some African, he didn't want to work things out, he didn't want me. He made it clear then, I just can't figure out why he came back to me. He could have had any woman in Chicago, and he chose me. It was probably because I would be easy to please, easy to keep around. I wasn't so bad in bed, either. I don't know his motivations. I don't know how long it took for him to say I love you to me the first time. It was way past our wedding, that's all I can remember.

We shouldn't have gone through with it, we shouldn't have ended up together. We were no good the first time around, why did we choose to torture ourselves further. I can't regret everything, since I have five beautiful, smart, wonderful children because of him. Children I probably wouldn't have had without him, both in the physical and mental sense. I didn't have a bad life with him, it was wonderful. The dream life for any woman, except for me. I didn't care about the mansion, the money, the cars, the wealth. If I could only have someone love me for all that I am, my insecurities and downfalls, I would be happy. I don't know, maybe I was happy for once. I never expected myself to be with a person for so long, after my first failed attempted at marriage.

And I can't say I didn't love him. Because I thought I did, I thought we would be able to work everything out, that all the trouble we went through would make us stronger. I played my own game of proving to him I changed, I wanted him more than anything else in this world. I knew he didn't want the old Abby, the old screwed up, insecure, alcoholic Abby. I changed for him, I made myself better for him. Maybe he came back to me out of need or guilt. Looking back, we should have never given it a second chance.

I crumple the paper back up, I don't know why I kept it. I throw it into the flames, just like Carter had moments ago. The flames take it and feed off it, burning it into a million ashes I will never see again. I had never wished for the holidays to be over more than today. The clock rung out midnight, the eerie sound echoing through the whole first floor. Merry Christmas. I want the day to finally finish, so I can stop putting on an act to save my kids the worries. I want to be able to walk near Carter and not have him completely ignore me, or resent me. We avoided each other at all costs lately, even working opposite shifts. I want the divorce papers in my hand. I wasn't asking for half of everything, I wasn't even asking for anything. I had money saved up in the bank, my own work. I could get a decent condo on the lakefront, and work for food and bills. I would pull off a few extra shifts now and then. It wouldn't be so bad. And hopefully Carter would move on too, find someone who lights up his life, who makes him smile.


	3. Moving On

**_Author's Notes: Okay sorry for the confusion, just for clarification purposes: The story actually takes place 25 years later... Sorry!!!!! Carter and Abby were married for 23, but there was a 2 year break between the time Carter came back from Africa, and the time they got married... I hope that clears everything up? I'm sorry again, I was just trying to get the idea down, and the little details slipped out from under me.. Anyways thanks to everyone for the positive reviews, they make me want to keep writing... I'm up to Chapter 12, but I like building the suspense... So please read and review, and of course, enjoy!!! Thanks!!!_**

I put the last box down on the floor behind heading out the door. Somehow this is all happening. It's been about two and a half weeks since Christmas, two days since we saw our lawyers. Everything was going strangely smooth. We didn't have a big court case, I wanted nothing from him. We worked out a schedule with Millie and Ethan. Ethan was old enough to be at home alone, and if he didn't feel like it, he could travel between my condo and the mansion. He had a car, and somehow he was okay with everything. It had taken a while for me to talk to him about all this, but he somehow understood. I was expecting him to hate me and scream at me, tell me I was ruining his family, his life. Yet I got the completely opposite reaction. He said he loved us no matter what, and would try to help out in any way he could. The news was a little harder on Millie, but she also managed to come to terms with it. She was going to work between our shifts, which she wasn't too thrilled about, but it would be okay. She would stay with me if I was off, or she would be with Carter if he was off. We'd decide weekends and everything, but the choice was always up to her. If she didn't want to, then she didn't have to. We both knew it would be a hard adjustment, but she would get through it. We would all have to adjust and sacrifice. I unpin the keys from the mansion from my keychain. They seem unusually heavy, and I twirl them around my fingers for a second. I have a huge dislike of keys. I place them down on the dark mahagony table and pick up the box. I head up the four stairs toward the door, as I hear my name being shouted from the steps.

I turn around briefly and Carter's standing there, holding onto the railing. He sounded like he wanted to say something, but the words didn't come out. I had a vague idea stay would have been in there somewhere. But it didn't come out. I gave him an akward smile and opened the door, shutting it behind me as I made my way out into the bitter winter. I stood at the door, I haven't been out on my own for twenty years. It would be so strange coming home to an empty house, a clean kitchen, and silence. I popped the box into the backseat of my BMW, and crawl into the driver's seat. I didn't think turning my car would take this much effort. I thought I would feel differently, somehow liberated. I remember the day I walked away form Richard. I felt like I was alive again, now I felt dead. I hear my phone ringing in my purse, and I reach over to grab it. Amy's name lights up the screen, and I answer it, pressing the flip phone to my ear as I turn on the car and begin to pull out of the driveway.

"Hey baby."

She's still my baby, and always will be. I know she hates when I call her that, but I'll never stop doing it. I stop at the gates, and wait for them to open for me. They finally begin to creak open, and I turn left, watching the huge property disappear behind me.

"Hey, mom. Sorry I didn't call yesterday. So what happened on Thursday?"

I put the phone between my ear and my shoulder, trying to pay attention as the houses get closer and closer together, and more populated. The mansion rested on a good couple acres.

"Its going to take a couple weeks for the paperwork to go through, but it's official. I'm on my way to my condo right now."

I hear silence on the other line, Amy's known about this the longest, and she didn't sound prepared at all.

"Amy, I'm sorry. If there was another way, I would have tried it. It's over and it's hard, but I promise it'll all be okay."

She lets out a sob as I pull into the parking lot of my new building. It's right on the lakefront, I've got a great view. Although right now none of it seems worth anything with my daugther crying. I get out of the car and am met with a shot of cold wind, snow, and ice. I walk over to the side were I had put the box, and open the door.

"Amy, I'll call you back in a few minutes. I need to get inside. And don't forget, I love you."

She snuffles a quick bye and hangs up her phone before I have a chance to shut mine. I put it into my pocket and lock my car. The doorman opens the glass door for me and I make my way to the elevators. I live on the seventh floor. I get on as soon as the doors open, and in a few seconds I'm up where I belong. I unlock my door with my new key, and set the box near the door. I've slowly begun moving in, I still have unpacked things, but for the most part, it looks like a home. I look over the beach, the fog and snow mixing together and creating a white blanket.

I go back to the box I brought, I needed something for my fireplace mantel. I pull out the pictures I gathered, and sit down on the carpeted floor with the empty frames. The first one I took was of Amy and me, the day she had been born. I had been in labour for over twenty hours, ready to kill anyone that came into my path. Of course Susan had showed up, to see how everything was coming along, and she ended up delievering my baby since Dr. Coubourn had been busy with another delievery. And believe me, babies do not wait.

The next one I took was of our ever-growing family. Amy had been about about two, and the twins had just been born. We were in the backyard, Amy in Carter's arms, Jack and Rob in mine. I don't remember who took the picture, but we looked so happy. I don't even want to remember what we might have been hiding and pretending back then. I put that one up next to the previous one.

The third picture I found was of the kids, when they were still small. Amy was probably the oldest, at eight or nine, and Millie was only a few weeks. I think John snapped the picture just as Millie had begun to wail. Ethan was holding onto my leg, the twins were smiling like clowns, and Amy had her head against my shoulder, we looked so much alike. It was a great picture.

The last one I wanted was one that had been taken two years ago, during vacation. We had gone to Italy for a month, an extended family vacation. Everyone was bigger, we were all older, but it was something I could look back at later, and remind myself what I had. I would do anything for my family. Right now I never felt more alone in my life, even though I could easily go back to the mansion. I could stand before him and ask him to take me back. And he would do it. I knew he always would, but I don't think I would ever forgive myself. I'm doing the right thing, I just need to completely convince myself of that.


	4. The Encounter

**__**

Author's Notes: Thank you so much for the reviews!!!! I got up and was like OMG reviews!!!! So just keep doing what your doing, and I"ll keep doing what I'm doing... Enjoy!

Posters Note- Heh, it's Kat, I'm posting this for Liby, and I just wanted to let you know the layout might be a bit different, cause my computer screws things around when I copy and paste, so if it's a bit confusing, that's my bad I didn't have time to check how she laid it out.

I'm about to finish working on my charts, when I hear a constant knocking at the door. They must have let whoever it is in downstairs. Maybe it was someone on my visitors list, or maybe its Ethan or Millie. I don't know, I would think that after three months they would have learned to keep their key. I unbolt the door, and open it slowly. John Carter III, stands in front of me, I wonder what John's dad is doing here. I can't believe I just did that, he's my dad too. Unless he decides to disown me. I try him for a smile, and he gives me one. Okay, so hopefully this won't be too awkward. I open the door and let him in further. He comes in and takes off his coat, throwing it over a chair. In the meantime I shut the door, and then I walk into his open, expecting arms and give him a kiss on the cheek and an awkward hug. I walk into the kitchen and pull out a teabag, pouring the steaming water over it. I had just made myself a cup, and I know Jack drinks tea as well. I take his cup and lead the both of us into my living room. I had cleaned earlier this morning, although without the kids, there's nothing much left to clean. I think I know why he's here.

"Abby, why didn't you two tell me?"

I was right on target. We hadn't told a lot of people about the divorce. It wasn't an obvious thing. I mean I didn't change back to my maiden name. I had added his name to mine, or rather Richards, and that was the end of it. I kept it, he didn't really care. I sometimes wore my wedding ring out of habit, and I had noticed he did at first too. But as the months progressed, the frequency of both stopped for us. We never quit avoiding each other, but if we were stuck together, we were still together for everyone in the ER. Only two people knew, and we trusted them. Susan wouldn't tell a soul, and if she did I would strangle her. Luka wouldn't tell anyone either, he knows how hard this has been on both of us. I've bonded with him a lot lately. I think Sam knows, now too. He sort of had to explain to her why he was at my apartment three months ago while I was crying. It was a long, horrible time. I kept on blaming myself for ruining the relationship, and I still believe its my fault. But there's nothing I can do.

"We didn't want to make a big deal out of it. You've got to believe me, Jack. I'm sorry. We were just trying to protect the kids."

He nodded his head. I saw him ringing his hands, and cracking his knuckles. His resemblance to Carter is uncanny. They both look alike, and act alike. Even though Jack wasn't in Carter's life full-time, I think Carter had better male role models that taught him a lot more. I've met his mother only a few times. She didn't like me, and I think the feeling was mutual.

"Why? What happened? Everything seemed fine at Christmas?"

I shrugged my shoulder, starring at the pictures on the mantel that Ethan had brought from Christmas. There was one that he took of Carter and me, his hand wrapped around my waist, me leaning into him. We should both become actors, we're both very good at fooling people. I think it comes with the territory of being a doctor. You have to become emotionless to a certain point. You have to look professional. You can't cry in front of patients or families.

"I honestly don't know. We've been falling apart ever since we got back together. I kept on going because I thought it would get better. It did for a while, when the kids were born and growing up. But we just shifted apart. I think Kem and the baby effected him alot. I wish I could tell you more, Jack. But I can't even pinpoint it. We've been putting on an act for the kids, we didn't want them to resent us."

I don't think he ever really got over Kem, Africa, and his stillborn son. He never really talked about it, just kept it locked inside. I tried to be there for him, I dragged him to meetings, I was there when no one else wanted to. I had to sit through his fling with the DCFS worker, and through his pain. I never gave up on him, because I figured out I loved him. It was really late then, but someone I managed to get a second chance. I shouldn't have.

"He's a mess without you."

The one thing I never expected to hear from anyone. He's not a mess without me. He's doing just fine. I see him at work on occasion, he's peppy and energy filled, laughing and joking. He seems so much happier than he has in years. I've even heard through the grapevine that Susan was trying to get him to get out more, with eligible female friends. I was a bit jealous, but I hadn't a right to be. He wasn't mine anymore. And I knew Susan had pretty good taste, she landed Chuck, didn't she? He wasn't hot or handsome, but he was genuinely loving person. He would do anything for her. She was his queen and that was that.

"Jack, he's doing fine. Maybe he's had a rough day. I've had those too."

I watched him play with the cup, and I realized I was doing the same thing. Was I trying to make excuses for him? Was he really alright? Or was he pretending? I don't think he would pretend. He let me walk out that door. He signed the divorce papers. He hasn't called, or even asked how I was doing. By far, I don't think he's given a damn about me. Now I'm making everything about myself. I'm a selfish person, but I can't help it. I've learned how to fend for myself, and my children. Given different circumstances, years earlier, I would have done anything for him.

"Abby, I have a question. And I want the honest truth. Do you still love him?"

I looked at him. The words were coming out of his mouth, I was hearing them, but I wasn't understanding them. I stared at him for a second, before looking away, and standing up, avoiding the question. I heard him let out a sigh as I walked into the kitchen. I leaned against the counter for a second. Did I still love him? I don't know. No. I didn't. I glanced up at the clock on the wall, it was nearing midnight. He had been here for almost two hours, and I have no clue where the time went.

"Jack, are you staying with John, or are you at a hotel?"

I rinsed the cup I had been drinking from and put it on the dryer. I wipe away the water from the counter, and find every reason not to go back into the room with my father-in-law.

"Hotel, down on Lake."

I looked out at the pounding rain behind the glass, it would be hell getting outside and inside without getting soaked. I always liked Jack, he was the closest thing to parents I've ever had.

"Why don't you stay here, tonight? I have an extra bedroom, and you wouldn't be intruding."

He hesitated a second, before nodding. I gave him a reassuring smile and started toward his room for the night. He was close on my heals a few seconds later. I opened the door, and checked to make sure everything was okay. I didn't use the room often, I had four bedrooms. I had changed the sheets the day before, almost in anticipation of someone coming and staying. He paused before going into the room.

"You and John are not like me and Eleanor. You've got something different altogether."

He hesitated a moment before shutting the door. I moved out and heard a thank-you before the click of the door and lock. I wandered back into the living room and kitchen, turning off the lights as I went. I turned on the light in the hallway, just in case he needed to get to the bathroom in the middle of the night. I finally got to my own bed, and as I peeled my clothes off, his comment began to sank in. Did we compare ourselves to them? Is that what he was implying? Or was he trying to tell me something I'll only get a few years later, when we've both fully gone our separate ways. I crawled into bed, the sheets warm and inviting against my ravaged body. The thinking would have to wait, I can't think anymore about him, about what Jack said. I don't want to. If I start now, I won't stop all night.


	5. Changes

**_Author's Notes:: Reviews make me smile... So thank you to everyone's who has sent me one.. It makes me feel motivated to keep writing... Well I was bored early this morning, and I checked how many pages I had written so far.. I'm on 31 pages, single spaced, 12 Times New Roman.. So there is alot to come.... And I hope you guys like it... And well this chapter... Well just read and enjoy... Then review... Please?!?_**

I'm stuck sitting at home, alone, for the sixth month in a row. I know people have volunteered to set me up on dates, but I don't want any of it. I've gone through enough boyfriends to last me a lifetime, and two failed marriages make me believe love isn't real. I mean I have nothing left to do but find a nice retirement community and sit back and relax. Well never mind, I still have a few more years in front of me. I should get myself a dog. That would be a nice stress-reliever. But then again, I would have to walk it, and clean it, and feed it. I don't need more work. I flipped through all the channels, and nothing good is on. I've gone through all the magazine's I have, and found nothing but overpriced items that look crazy. I finally gave in to reading one of my daughter's cheesy romance books. If only romance like Antonio and Carmen was real. Those books were oodles of crap, and I actually read one of them. I don't mind some romance novels, the ones that are more down to earth. I throw the book back onto the coffee table and lay down on the sofa, turning on a channel that plays jazz music. I should light some candles, pour myself a glass of wine, and relax. Of course, my pager can't read my mind, and it has different plans. It scares me half to death, when it vibrates and beeps loudly against the coffee table. It's new and I still cant' get used to it. I turn toward the screen and see the ER's number, along with the message 911. It's urgent. If their calling me in tonight, they're crazy. I just worked a 36 hour shift. I shouldn't even be working a 36 hour shift. I'm an attending. This is not fair. I grab my phone from the table next to me, and quickly dial out the number I got the page from. I hear the phone ring, and Frank answers it. I quickly mumble something about a page and me being off. I hear the line click, and a mess of trauma noises looms, and Susan's voice.

"Abby, get down here. Carter's having a heart attack... Damn it, charge at 200. Ab, hurry."

I felt the phone drop from my hand, the annoying tone playing in the background. The world sort of stopped moving, the clock's not ticking. I grab my keys and purse on impulse, leaving the rooms with the power on, not caring. He can't die. He cannot die. I make it to my car, the hospital is only ten minutes away. I need to get there, and he needs to be alright. He needs to be alive. This is probably some sick, cruel joke Susan's playing to get us back together. I don't know. I pull out onto the street, stepping on the gas, flowing through lights. Thank god its late and the streets aren't full. Please, just please, be okay.

I see the hospital in the distance, making my way closer and closer, every second dragging out for eternity. I pull up, leaving the car to the side of the ambulance bay. I don't care if it gets towed, I don't care about anything anymore. I just want to see him, I want to be with him, I want him to be alright. I don't care if he hates me and doesn't ever want to see me again, I need to know he's okay. I rush through the doors, pushing my way, shoving little old ladies and men. I don't care. I rush toward trauma one, and I see him lying on the slab of metal, Susan holding a pair of defibrillators to his chest. She's screaming out orders to everyone in the room, the residents are running around franticly. She spots me through the doorway, I don't even know how I got so close. She gives me a fearful look, mixed with somewhat of an apologetic one. I want to go in there and help, but I know they'll kick me out as soon as humanly possible. So I can't do anything. I'm a doctor and I can't do anything but watch my husband die.

I stare at the screen, watching the lines on the screen scroll flatly along. Suddenly, as if by my will, they start to hike up and down. More and more of them, until it becomes a steady stream. He's stable. He's stable. For the moment. Only for the moment. But he's alright, he's going to pull through. He has to, his five kids need him. They love him. I need him. I lean against the cool tiles of the hallway, and Susan steps out of the doorway. She walks closer to me and pulls me in for a hug. I don't' know if she's comforting me, or I'm comforting her. I don't think it matter at this point.

"We managed to get him back, but it's bad, Abby. He may never wake up."

The words out of her mouth didn't register. They simply didn't. I left the babbling blonde idiot alone. He was going to be just fine. He had a stable rhythm. He was breathing, of course by the aid of a ventilator, but he was still breathing. He needed to stay alive. If not for me, then for everyone else who loved him.


	6. The Waiting Game

**_Author's Notes:: Reviews make my day!!! Thank you so much!!!!! LOL There's nothing more I can say but thank-you!!!!! _**

**_Also, since I've been doing this fic in the Abby perspective, I sorta forced Kat into doing a companion fic to this, Finding the Truth, in Carter's POV.... It's really well written and it works with every chapter of the fic, giving both of their views... So after you've read and reviewed this chapter... Go check it out... Pretty please? I'll post an extra chaper..... (Kat, I do NOT blackmail people...) _****_I'm done. Go enjoy.... Review... Tell me what you love and what you hate.... :-)_**

**__**

I drag my feel against the waxed floors, the only sound in the hallway besides the beeping of machines. The wards are dark and unlit, lights turned off for the night. The only light that seeps into the rooms is that from the hallway. She reached his room, his residence for the last week or so. Amy sat at his bedside, holding his hand. She was lying on the bed, practically half-asleep. She's stopped by every day, spent time with him. She needs him. I walk in, and she sits up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She's stubborn, and refuses to let anyone else take over for her bedside vigil. I've taken the nights, only because I somehow manage to work them into my schedule, not that I've gotten alot of sleep anyway. I just got off a 12 hour shift from hell, and I would rather be going to bed, but I can't. I help her up from the chair she's been sitting in, and walk with her toward the door, grabbing his chart as I walk.

"So what did the doctors say?"

She shakes her head, still trying to wake up, but on her face I see the look of grief and pain. It's enough for me to know the news isn't good. I pull her into my arms, although she's almost a foot taller than I am. Her body shivers, but no tears fall. I kiss her on her cheek, and we both lean back on the wall as I flip through the chart. There's been no spontaneous movements, he's not breathing on his own, he's in a coma. Every day that he's in it, the statistics get worse. Now, it just depends on how long we're going to be flogging him for. I don't think that he'd want to be on a respirator for years and years. That would be torture, but if the hope that he would wake up was there, we would keep it. I don't know anymore. I would have given my best advice to a patient, but I can't do that this time. This was my husband, the father of my children, a son, a friend.

I give my daughter one last hug before I move in for my shift. We've been doing it for the last few weeks, we all alternate so someone can be with him in case he wakes up. I know the chances of that keep falling lower and lower every day. The kids all work out their schedules, but it's not unlikely to see all of them in the room at one point. It's not fair what's happening.

look up at the screen and watch his heart work. His heart's still beating, his body's still working, but he's on a different world, a different plant. And there's not much that can be done. Take his hand and link my fingers with his. I remember how I used to marvel at how perfectly if it into mine. The nights we would spend walking from apartment to house, the times we used to spend lying in bed or on the sofa. We weren't all that bad, were we? Or were all those times lies too? Were we putting on an act to make ourselves believe we loved each other? I don't even know what love for a man is anymore. I understand love for my children, for my family, but I can't bring myself to figure out what love for a man is. If I even love this man the way I'm supposed to. I want to know if I'm here because I truly love him, that I'm not here because of necessity or dependence or because it is expected of me.

I lie my head down on the spot next to his arm. My head is aching from the lack of sleep, the hospital smell is permanently etched into my skin, and I can't function anymore, but I'm staying here. I have to stay here, even if not for me, for him. It's funny, because if this didn't' happen, I don't think I'd be here, closer to him physically than I've been in years. I don't think every waking moment would have revolved around him. I don't know if its considered a burden, but its slowly killing the mentality of everyone involved. The ER just isn't the same without him, his patients continuously asking for him. What are we supposed to say? I'm sorry, but Dr. Carter suffered a major MI. He's not likely to come back, but you'll be fine? I don't think that would go too well. We've got to keep our lives going, there's no other way out. We can't put everything on hold any longer. Amy and Jack need to get back to school, Rob's been ignoring his studies, Ethan and Millie have finally gotten on summer break. Amy and the twins have finals coming up, their not prepared at all. I'm afraid of what's going to happen. The most I've been able to do is yell at them that dad would be disappointed if they didn't pass their finals on account of him.

I lean toward my purse and pull out my bottle of Advil and take four tablets. It takes me four tablets to get rid of my pain. I would rather a strong drink back at home in own home, in my own bed, out of the hustle and bustle of the place that's taken my health and life for the last thirty years. That's not an option tonight. I swallow the tablets with a sip of water, and turn my attention back to the slab of flesh lying on the bed in front of me. If there's anything I'm feeling right now, it's definitely hate. I hate him for doing this to everyone, for making me go through this. It's not supposed to end this way. He's supposed to live a long, energetic life and not give a damn when I die. I hate him for making my sons and daughters loose sleep, begin to get grey hair. I hate him for the pain he's causing everyone, the tears that could probably fill a river. I hate him.

"Do me one last favor, Carter. Listen to me right now. Your kids need you, you've still got a family that loves you. So you have to get out of his. You have no other choice. Don't be a pain in the ass. Just get better."

I get up, the inconsiderate ass hole is the only thing running through my mind. I go to the other side of the room, finding a comfortable chair, and pulling it closer to his bed. I leave it about two feet away from him, and sit down in it. I need sleep. I can't sit here and stare at him, and think of the reasons I hate him at this moment. I grab a blanket from the closet and throw it over myself as I make myself comfortable on the worn leather chair. The last thing I remember before my eyes closed was the dark of the evening, and the glow of the green from the machines against his pale body. And how much I hated that pale flesh.


	7. Don't Look Back

_**Author's Notes: Thank ya for the reviews!!!! I'm sorry I haven't updated but the servers were down on So yeah... But here's chapter seven... Enjoy!!! I think I'll double post today... To make up for yesterday? Sound good? Hehe... Please review when you're done!!! And I think Kat's working on her fic, the companion piece to this, Finding the Truth... Okay, done babbling.... **_

Six weeks, six weeks I've devoted my life to not leaving this hospital. I've only gone home to grab some clothes and take a shower. I don't know why I'm still doing this, why any of us are doing this. We should have taken him off the respirator. I would have recommended that to my patient's families weeks ago. But we're not. The kids refuse to, although Jack has the final say. That's why I'm heading up there for the second time today. I've stopped spending time there. I would wait a few minutes for Amy to leave, and then I would go back downstairs and sleep. The nurses know what's happening, and they've been helping me out. Susan's telling me to talk to them, to tell them to get on with their lives. I have tried, but they won't listen. I hear the elevator open and I walk out, I don't think about my actions anymore. I just do them. I squeak down the hallway in my rubber soled shoes, I send a forced smile to the nurses sitting around the desk. I've gotten to know quite a bit of them, and they are all pretty nice. I've spent way too much time here, I've even saved a patient or too. Then I simply gave up. I would only be there for my kids, and as soon as everyone left, I would leave too. There was no point in me tearing myself apart for him. He wasn't coming back.

I see Jack's figuring standing outside the door, his head is in his hands. I know this has been hard on him too. He already lost one son to leukemia, now he's watching his other son stay on a ventilator. He hasn't moved from Chicago since we found out. He's staying at my apartment, along with Millie and Ethan. They have gotten pretty close. I sent Amy off to school to finish her semester, but she came back as soon as possible. Rob's been hanging around, since he finished his classes as well. Jack stayed in Boston, but called every day to find out if there was anything new. Our lives revolved around him, or what used to be of him. He was a corpse, nothing more. An inanimate object. Sure he was breathing, his organs were still working, but he was gone. We needed to give up and move on. We need to learn how to let go.

I walk up to Jack, and he pulls me into a hug. We stand there for a while, knowing that this would be the end. He was warm against me, although his body had shriveled. No one had been eating, nothing had been going on. Our lives were on hold, and I vowed never to do that again.

"Dad, you've got to take him off. It's been six weeks, how long are we going to be flogging him for?"

Jack shrugged his shoulders, looking at Amy, Ethan, and Millie sitting around his bed. I run my hand over his back, thinking of how I would do this with a patient. I've fully lost that connection with him, he's just a patient to me, nothing more. He's a name on a chart, a body on a bed, a family that needs to let go.

"One more week, Abby. Just one more week."

I nod my head, let him have one more week. It doesn't matter. The DNR has been signed, so if he arrests, we will be unable to do anything. I'm not going to revoke it, either. I wouldn't want my family watching me suffer. My family would be the one suffering more than I was anyway. God, I have no clue how I spent over twenty years with him. It doesn't seem like we have ever been in love, or we once couldn't spend a moment apart from each other. I hate him. I really do, for putting all of us through this. He's stringing us along, trying to punish me, but punishing his whole family instead. I hear the nurse announce visiting hours are over, this would be my cue to usher everyone out, and take over the post, since I have privileges, but I'm not going to. I watch everyone kiss him, caress him, love him. They slowly make their way out to the elevator, as I slip into the room. The lights have been dimmed, and his body is green from the screens. I'm used to this already, he always looks like this when I'm around.

"You're an asshole, you know that? How did we ever manage to sit in the same room, much less share the same bed? I have no clue how I ever managed to convince myself I loved you."

I slam the chart into the holder in the front of his bed, and make my way toward the door. I'm sick of dealing with all of this. He's stolen over twenty years of my life, he's not taking any more. I can't deal with him, I can't keep doing this. He's like my mother, only worse. I could always get rid of my mom, but I can't get rid of him. I have kids with him. I'm not strong enough to pretend everything's going to be just fine, and he'll wake up in a few hours, or days, or weeks, or years. I just can't do that. I know the truth, and I think its time everyone faced it. I'm not giving up on him, I'm just being realistic. I wave to the nurses as I walk out. They know the drill, page me if something happens. I'm going downstairs to get something to drink, then I'm going to bed. I need to sleep. I haven't slept in hours.

I make my way past the lounge, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge. I walk by and tell Frank to wake me ten minutes to seven, so I can start my next shift. I head toward the suture room, which has become like my second bedroom. I haven't slept in my own bed in weeks. I push the door open and lock it behind me, it's a reflex I have since a while ago, when I almost got choked to death by some psycho patient. I walk closer to the bed, when I hear someone croak out my name, I look closer and see Luka lying on the bed across the room. I divert my course, and walk closer to him as he sits up, making room for me on the gurney.

"Is it still slow outside?"

I nod my head and take a sip from my bottle. The funny thing is, I'm more comfortable around Luka than I was around Carter. I don't know why. He's always been there when I've needed him, I could always depend on him. I want to believe its only because that's the type of person he is, but something underneath my skin keeps telling me he still feels something for me, even after all this time. I don't know what to make of it. I look at him, he looks tired, but okay. He lets out a small laugh and a mumbled "What?" comes from him.

I act almost on impulse, something unknown and unfeeling. I can't control it. My lips meet his, delicate and light. I can feel his surprise under the kiss. His hand has found its way to the back of my neck, as my hand trails along his chest. He breaks away for a second, and I can't see his face in the dark room.

"Abby, this is wrong..."

"So stop me."

I lean in again, and he doesn't do anything but kiss me back. My hands run over his body, the kisses from him haven't changed. Their always passionate, he's always passionate. The one thing I could always count on. I never thought I would turn to him, it's not just for the sex. Its something I've wondered about ever since I broke up with him, I just can't bring myself to figure out what it is. I don't know if it's a regret, if I had stayed with him? If I had gone back with him? Would we have ended up together? How differently would my life had turned out? I probably would have had a lot more passion than Carter. I might have been happier. I don't know anymore. All I can feel is his hands skimming over my body, pulling my bra off under my shirt, his mouth sucking on my bare flesh. Flesh that hasn't been touch in months. I need this, probably as much as he does. It's wrong. It's very wrong, but neither one is going to stop us. I'm divorced, but I should know better than to have sex with a married man. We'll keep it a secret, something no one needs to know about. We've never done this before, we shouldn't be doing it now. I don't care. To hell with it all. I'm divorced, and my ex-husband is going to die within a few weeks. We'll move on. We have to, there is no other option.

He holds my head as he lowers my head onto the gurney. Please, just this one time. This one sanity-saving time.


	8. Let Go

**_Author's Notes: Please read and review!!!_**

I drop the discharge papers into the ever growing pile, and grab my next chart. It's crazy today, and I've barely had a chance to sit down and breathe. I haven't had any coffee, and my head is pounding. Yes, its another completely normal day in the ER. I don't know why I still do this, I'm getting too old. I have four residents under my wing, and another ten medical students running around somewhere, hopefully not killing anyone. I hate my life. I have a meeting with Kerry in about an hour, and I have so much paperwork to finish. Its going to be another long night. I might take everything and just go home and finish it there. I need peace and quiet. I walk off toward exam three, when Jerry screams there is a mass casualty coming in from an accident on the Eisenhower. Damn it, just what I needed. Their coming in about seven minutes. I'm going to go insane. I walk over to the trauma rooms and tell the residents that we need the rooms. They quickly start running around like trained dogs, clearing the room, getting the patients to their wards or discharged. I see Luka out of the corner of my eye and he shoots me a supportive smile. I will rip my hair out. I make my way to the ambulance bay, and the first round of patients come in, probably the most critical. I take the first one with two of the students, I see Luka heading toward the second ambulance. We start toward the trauma rooms, when Amy's voice pierces through the chaos, and I'm drawn away from the rush and excitement. I send in Jamie, one of the better residents, in my place. My daughter pulls me toward a quieter section of the hallway, smile plastered across her face. I don't want to know. I hear the machines going off in the room. I should be in there instead.

"Dad woke up. He's confused and disoriented..."

Hell no is the only thought that runs thought my mind. I break away from my daughter's grasp, pulling me toward the elevator. No I'm not leaving. He's my ex-husband. He means nothing to me anymore. I've gone through all this for weeks, I don't want to be a part of this. I push her completely off of me, and she stops, starring at me in shock.

"I'm not going. I have a mass casualty coming in, seven people that can die at any minute. I can't let that happen. I'm in charge."

I'm not risking seven lives to go see my ex husband. I have priorities that I can't let supercede my personal relationship. There is no personal relationship, I've let go already.

"But mom, he needs you..."

I see the pleading look in my daughter's eyes, and I would have given in, but it's not happening. I start back toward the incoming traumas, and to check on my residents.

"Amy, he's your father. He's my ex-husband. He's nothing to me anymore."

The tears pool in her dark brown eyes, but I let her. I leave her, and she lets out another yelp before running up the stairs. I can't do this. She should understand this the best of all of them. I run into the trauma, Jamie's having a hard time. I grab the tube from her hand, quickly putting it down the woman's throat. I move over, grabbing the blade from the nurse and making the incision for a chest tube. Jamie looks on in anger, I didn't' give her a chance. You don't give chances when life is hanging by a thread. Finally the pressure had been released from the lungs, and her BP started to go down. I give the nurses orders and tell Jamie to follow her up to CT. I move onto the next room, were Luka stands with one of the surgeons, trying to repair a hole in the heart. The life of an ER doc. I throw off my gloves and grab another gown, shifting back into my original room, where a new patient is placed before me. This is my life on a daily basis. I'm a healer, a fixer. I concentrate on the physical, never the mental. I did that once, as a nurse, as a medical student, even for some time of my residency. But it got to be too much, I would sit there months later and wonder how my patients was doing, or if everything was okay. I stopped caring as much as I did before. I got better at the physical, so I ignored the mental. I think it happens to every doctor. Yet, sometimes you get one of those cases that sticks in the back of your mind, that you worked on, you pushed every single limit and somehow managed to save them.

Its become a cycle for me, a cycle that I enjoy. I know I'm doing something I love to do. I'm doing something that I've always wanted to do. It gets repetitive after a while, but I've kept at it. I feel needed and wanted, I feel satisfied. I actually feel happy.

Seven hours later, I'm dead tired. I cannot walk, bend over, or move my arms. My shift ended two hours ago, but we had a few bounce backs, and we had to stabilize more than seven patients from the accident. I sign off all my charts, and grab the mail in my box. A letter for Kerry, no doubt. I don't' care, we were busy. I don't know what she wants from me, probably discussing something about policy or finances. That's all we ever talk about anymore at these meetings.

I make my way up the stairs toward the east hospital wing. I may not care for him, and I don't want anything to do with him, but I have to go. If not for anyone but my children, who love him. The hallways are once again, dimly lit. I never see them in the light of day. I haven't been here in weeks, all the more annoying this is. Jack revoked the one week order, and he's been here an additional three. No one was ready to let go. Maybe it was a good thing that they didn't let go. I see Dr. Myers by the desk and I walk up to. He hands me Carter's chart, as he finished writing on a different one. I flip through it, and his stats are climbing, blood work seems normal. Michael finishes the chart he was working on, and looks up at me. He can't tell me mor than what the chart just told me.

"Well, it looks like he's back with us, Abby."

I nod my head. Yes, good for the children, for their lives and for their sanity. I don't know how big a factor I'm going to be in all this. I put the chart back down on the desk, and push my hands into my pockets. My fingers are freezing, they feel like ice. I can't seem to warm up, even though I'm wearing a thick turtleneck. I take my left hand and sacrifice its warmth to run it through my hair, pushing it back. I shake off the few strands that came along with it.. I'm starting to grey, but quite gracefully actually. I'm going to die my hair, though. I don't' want to look that horrible. I might cut my hair short, I don't know what to do with my aging body anymore.

"But there is one thing. He has extensive memory loss. He didn't remember who the kids were, what he did for a living, marital status, nothing. He won't remember you."

Oh no, definitely not. This is not happening tonight.


	9. Bittersweet Reunion

**_Author's Notes::: Hey! I'm sorry I've been lagging on the updates... I'm going through a bit of a hell on earth right now, so just bare with me.... Anyways here is chapter nine, its on the short side, but I hope you enjoy it!!! Oh yeah, thank you so much for the reviews... And I hope everyone keeps it up... :-) They make me smile!!!_**

I walk into the room to see my ex-husband, peacefully sleeping in the dark room. I see the man I had spent twenty three years of my life with, the man I thought I could never live without. That was one big lie, me filling the role of the perfect liar. I hate him. He's nothing to me anymore, I have to keep saying that to myself. It seems to be my mantra. I'll be pulled in at the thick of it all, because of my kids. I'll end up spending every other waking moment by his side, and I'll be miserable. I don't want it. I know the kids mean well, but this isn't the way its going to work. I set the rules, I've lived my life enough to know what I want and don't want. And maybe him not recognizing anyone is a good thing, because I think the air would be more awkward than ever before. In the pale glow of the screen above him, I see he's starting to stir. I walk closer and drop the chart Michael had given me into his tray. He opens his eyes and sees me standing there, a mixed look of surprise and suspicion in his eyes.

"I'm sorry I woke you."

He shakes his head, and starts to sit up. He keeps his eyes glued to me, but fumbles around with the switches overhead and turns on the light. It sets a glow onto the room, and I can better see his face. He's starring at me, and it's starting to get uncomfortable. I know I look bad after a thirty-six hour shift, but I didn't know I looked that bad. Well at least he's alive and breathing, so my kids can stop moping around the hospital, and can start putting their lives together. I'm the selfish one, I know they were thinking that. I forgot about him, I wanted him to die. I never wanted him to die, I just wanted what's best for him. I didn't want him to suffer for years on a breathing machine. They believed in miracles. I am a doctor. I believe in medicine and reality.

"I'm Dr. Abby Lockhart."

He stopped examining me and started playing with the edge of the sheet. He looks like a little child, who's just been scolded for doing something they shouldn't have. He looks back at me, and I can see the look of pain on his face. He remembers me? I highly doubt that.

"I'm sorry. I can't remember anyone."

I feel like the weight that began to accumulate on my chest just vanished. Okay, so he has no clue who I am. And I'm starting to think this is the longest we've both been in each other's presence, and conscious, and haven't screamed or had to lie about something.

"It's alright. It'll just take a little bit of time."

As far as I know, he's a patient. He remembers nothing about who he is, or what he's done. He doesn't know the past, and can't plan for the future. He's a different person. He's open to anything anyone will tell him. He's susceptible to the lies people can conjure. I'm afraid to ask about what he knows, but I think the kids didn't tell him much, and I highly doubt the doctors letting them hang around for longer than five minutes anyway. He needed his rest to recover.

"Are you my doctor?"

I shake my head no. I'm not his doctor. I used to be his wife, his lover, his confident, his best friend. Now I'm simply the mother of his children. End of story. But I'm definitely not his doctor. I see the frustration growing inside of him. He wants to remember so badly, but he can't. He's left drowning in an alien world, where everything makes sense, but then again, it doesn't. I don't' know what I would do in his situation. I think I'd probably go insane. Not that insanity doesn't run in the family.

"Then who are you?"

I bite down on my bottom lip. Should I tell him? Would that make everything better or worse? I don't know, I've never actually dealt with someone close to me. I've dealt with Bipolar cycles. I've dealt with depressive and suicidal patients. But I have never dealt with my ex-husband. Richard seemed so much easier. There were no children, there wasn't a lot of property. He was supposed to pay my medical school bills. That was it. And that didn't happen either. We hated each other when we saw each other, and we made it pretty obvious. Why couldn't I have the same thing again?

"I'm your... I used to be your wife."

His gaze slowly shifts away from me, onto the other side of the room, onto the door, anything but me. Yes. Good idea. Keep your eyes away from me, I'm uncomfortable as is. I don't need to be more uncomfortable. I swear the air in the room became ten times heavier in that split second.

"We're divorced?"

I echo a quiet yes from my corner of the room. I'm shaded by some of the shadows, and I need to get out of there. I never imagined to have to deal with this all today. I had so many patients, so little sleep, and my daughter angry at me. I've dealt with spouting blood and drug addicts. I've dealt with Kerry Weaver. I've done it all, but I was not prepared for this, and I never will be. I start to stand. I need to go home, hop into the shower, change my clothes, get sleep. Most importantly get sleep. I start to walk toward the door, and I give him one last sympathetic glance as I turn on my heels to get out of there.

"Wait."

I pause in the doorway, my back still to him. I'm not being pulled back in there. I'm not giving in to whatever emotions of pity I might have.

"How long were we married for?"

"Twenty three years."


	10. Sacrifices

**_Author's Notes: Hey guys... I'm soo sorry about not updating... I've just been in so much of a rut with school starting, and this trail in court thing... And Seth... So yeah... I mean I have like up to chapter eighteen written... I just don't have the time or the energy to post, but everything's sorta fitting into place now and settling down, so I think we should be okay... Anyways I'm so sorry once again!!! And off to the next chapter.... Please review? Although you probably shouldn't since I've done nothing for ya.... :-( I'll post more often, I promise...._**

His brown hair fumbles in front of his eyes as he stares down at the table. I'm sitting across from him in complete silence. It's not an awkward silence. It's more of a comfortable silence. The sounds from a normal diner are miles away, and we are the only ones in the world. We couldn't do it; we couldn't pull it through. It's only two hours into my shift, and it seems to be the longest day of my life. He takes my mug of coffee from my grasp, and brings it up to his lips to take a sip. He's in another world, and so am I. We couldn't pull them through, it was our fault a family was dead. Of course it wasn't directly our fault. I mean we weren't behind the wheel when a drunk driver rammed into them, but we were the ones working on them. What if we had done something sooner, if we had worked on the heart instead of the lungs. If we had pushed the epi quicker, too many ifs and not enough explanations. A mother and father, two boys in the back seat. None of them pulled through. The boys were brought to us, only five and seven years old. The mother was sent to Mercy, the father to Rush. We had to call around and find out what happened. Luka has the older boy, Brian. I had the younger, Kevin. They both had major internal damage. Their heads were split open, blood oozing everywhere. The crash was horrible. I take Luka's hand and give it a tight squeeze. We've never gotten over deaths, especially when we could have stopped them. The boys were too young. I leave my hand on his, and he tries a smile, but it only half comes out. I look up, starring out the window, when I realize Amy's walking toward me. I was in a completely different world. I see her glare at me, some anger still in her eyes. She shoots a look at my hand, which is clasped over Luka's. I give him a squeeze and I pull my hand in my lap. Amy greets Luka, and he replies in a hushed voice. I then stand up, leading her toward an empty booth a few seats away. I don't want her getting the wrong impression, although the wrong impression would probably be the right impression. Whatever, my sex life is none of my daughter's business, not that she would want to know how great Luka is in bed anyway. I sit down, and she follows my lead, sliding into the seat across from me.

"What's wrong?"

I can tell right off that something is bothering my daughter. I've got this built in emotion detector, I think it comes with being a mother. I've managed to tell when she's truly happy or unbelievably sad. I can tell if she's worried or frustrated. I know her too well. And I also know she's still bitter about what I said a few days ago. It was the truth. He means nothing to me anymore, I haven't been there to see him in the four days that he's been awake. Apparently his memory isn't getting any better. It's not getting worse, but it's doubtful that he'll regain anything. I don't know what to tell my kids, your father's alive but he has no clue who you are. That's going to go well.

"Daddy's being discharged today, so I just wanted to tell you that I'm moving out of your place."

She better not be planning to stay with him. She's given up her life for her father so far. I had to physically drag her onto a plane for her to get back to Boston to finish her exams. She didn't want to leave. She's doing the same exact thing I did with my life. She's putting it on hold for a hopeless case. I've done it. I don't want my daughter doing it. I spent most of my childhood and youth taking care of my crazy mother. I spent my teen years caring for her episodes. I spent my first marriage worried about when she would show up and ruin everything for me. I spent my life caring for my mother and brother. I should have ignored them, given up. No one can help them but themselves. I wish someone would have told me that.

"Amy, go back to Boston. Your father is going to be taken care of. Rob's still here, so are Ethan and Millie. Start putting your life together. He's your father. You love him. I understand that. But you can't put your life on hold waiting for him to get better. He may never recover."

I try to keep my voice to a steady rhythm, so she actually understands what I'm trying to say. I don't want to her to misunderstand my intentions. I keep my voice gentle, but authoritive. I don't' want to force her into a corner, because she'll go defensive. She looks out at the hospital through the window, and then back at me. She's angry. Extremely angry. I don't need anything else to tell me that but the look in her eyes. Well you know what, it's the truth. I've dealt with it personally. If she wants to be stubborn and regret it later on in life, fine. But she shouldn't blame me in the end, because I tried to tell her.

"Oh yeah, because their really going to take care of him. Just because you hate him, doesn't mean the rest of us do."

She slides out and storms off. I would follow her, but I know that will do no good. She inherited my stubbornness. I give up for the moment. I have to approach this differently. I go back toward Luka, and drop off a dollar on the table for the coffee. I lean over and give him a peck on the cheek, telling him to take his time. I'll cover for him. I walk out of the diner, my mission playing in the back of my mind. It's a long shot, but I think it will work. Who knows, but I need to get everything under my control once again. I don't give a damn what happens to Carter, but my children are my children, I'm not letting this destroy their lives.

I walk into his room, and he's up and about. He's starring out at the city, something that he had seen so many times before, now it's a whole new world. He turns around and looks at me. He doesn't try for a smile, a grin, or a frown. He's just emotionless. Yes. This is good. I can deal with emotionless. I can't deal with him trying to be fake with me any longer. He keeps starring at me, god that's getting annoying.

"Carter, we need to talk."

He shrugs his shoulders and sits down in the chair by his bed. I grab the stool by the counter, and roll over to him. He gives me a suspicious look, but I shake it off. I'm the one that should be looking at him suspiciously. He probably had a few affairs while we were together. I just never really thought about it. Who cares anymore, anyway. I sure don't. I haven't really thought about what I've wanted to say to him, I guess I'll just have to improvise. Not that I'm bad at it. I've had to improvise answer to why mommy and daddy weren't sleeping in the same bed anymore, and where babies come from, and why our children couldn't' go out on a school night. I did perfectly fine. Why should this be any different?

"Amy wants to stay with you. You have to tell her she can't. She's starting medical school soon, she has summer courses she needs to finish. She has a life set up in Boston, a boyfriend, friends, everything. You can't let her drop everything and take care of you. If there's anything good you've ever done for me, this would be it."

I finish my sentence and look up at him, but I can't read his expression. I used to be able to. He wore his emotions on his sleeve. Not anymore, of course. He's spent twenty years hiding and lying. Why do I think that it would change now? He looks a little hurt, and a bit confused, but I think he gets it. I move away from him and he looks up at me. He's asking something, I can see it in his eyes, but he doesn't open his mouth to say a word. I don't care. It's his loss. I'm not suddenly going to become his wife because he doesn't know who I am. We fell apart for many reasons, too many to count, and nothing will change the fact that I don't love him anymore.

Amy walks into the room, ignoring me completely. Okay, I get it. She hates me. I understand completely. I spent nine months carrying her inside of me, four months not sleeping because she was crying, five years worrying if she was okay, and the remaining seventeen forming her into beautiful, talented, smart, successful woman. No, that means nothing at all. I'm her mother, which means absolutely nothing.

"Daddy, just a few more minutes and we can get going home."

I walk out of the room. The tension was palpable. I don't feel like adding to the stress and unhappiness already between everyone in the family right now. I lean against the wall, but I'm able to hear the conversation inside the room. I say a silent prayer that he doesn't make it too obvious that I've spoken to him, because then my daughter would be more resentful.

"Amy, I really don't think you staying with me is such a good idea. I know you're my daughter, but you're still a stranger to me. Please don't get upset. I'm just not comfortable around you yet. I don't want you hanging around. I'll slowly fit the pieces of my life together by myself. I appreciate it. I really do, but it's not what I want. If I need anything, I'll find someone to ask."

That was perfect. She will never know I talked to him, and I honestly believe that's how he feels. Although I don't think he's uncomfortable around her. She's daddy's little girl, she always will be. He probably feels the connection to her, but he can't remember anything about her past, her childhood. He can't remember the memories they shared. Well that's not my problem anymore. My problem is shipping my daughter back to Boston.

"Daddy . . . "

I hear the pleading tone of her voice, but he won't give in. In any other situation, he would have. That voice got her anywhere with him, but now it does little to change his mind. I want to back in there and push her out before he rethinks anything, but I can't. I'll just stand out here and look completely calm, leaning against the wall. I should really get downstairs, but they haven't paged me, and I pray they don't.

"At least let me take you home?"

I break into the room, and she diverts her gaze from me. What am I doing, I know I shouldn't be doing this, I'm creating another connection with him that will inevitably break and leave me searching for answers and a bottle of alcohol in a few days, but I don't care. Sacrifices are always made for children.

"No, I will."


	11. Regaining Control

**_Author's Notes: Hey! Okay so I know it's 1:15 in the morning. So what? I'm updating aren't I? I'm sorry I've got a load of work to do, and then this situation with a guy... "Things can't just break for your happiness..." It's a long story and I won't bore everyone with it... Although my life is like a soap opera... Or better yet, ER... Haha... Its the whole Carby thing during season eight in a way.... Nevermind... Well thank you so much to everyone for reviews, although you didn't have to... It made me smile... And enjoy this chapter... I know Abby seems a little insensitive... But keep reading... I promise.. She gets better... Enjoy! And please review..._**

I straighten my hair in the mirror. I look like a disaster. I haven't been home in over two days, and now I have to take Carter home before I can even think of taking a shower. My hair's greasy, the natural oils suddenly making it shine more and more. I take the rubber band from my pocket and quickly pull it into a messy bun. I feel like a slob, but there's nothing I can do about it. I want to get out of this hospital as soon as humanly possible. I see Carter's reflection in the mirror, he look about ready to go. I turn toward the door and lean against it, giving myself a heavy sigh. Why did I decide to do this? I should have let Amy take him home instead. But I didn't, she's getting home and packing. I booked her flight while she was talking to Carter. She's still frustrated and hateful toward me, but whatever. She'll thank me in a few years.

"If you hate me so much that you can't stand to be in a room with me for longer than fifteen minutes, just go. I can catch a cab if this is such a big inconvenience to you."

I turn around to face him, he looks a little ashamed. Am I really acting that horribly? But then again, how does he expect me to act? We are ex's after all, and not just after a break up, after a marriage. I dig my hands into my pockets, I'm at a loss for words. What do I owe him? An apology? The man doesn't even know who I am, I'm a stranger to him, everyone's a stranger to him, and I'm not making the situation any better.

"I'm sorry."

He gives me a small shrug and starts toward me and the door. Amy took his bags and everything, she was dropping them off at the mansion before going to my condo to gather her own things. We had nothing to carry, which is actually a good thing. I don't even have my house keys with me, Amy took them. I pull my purse onto my shoulder and start toward the elevator, Carter a few feet behind me. He looks a lot better than before, although he's still really pale. That's probably due to the lack of sunlight. He doesn't look that bad for his age at all, he could probably walk out onto the street and have a woman walk up to him and ask him out. Well, that would be great for him. He deserves it. As long as I'm kept out of the equation. As we wait for the elevator, I hear my stomach rumble, and this painful cramp passes through my body. When's the last time I ate anything? Last week? That wouldn't be unlikely. I'm starving. I'm not going to make it home with him in this condition. But if I want to get something to eat, he's going to have to come along. Well at least we can figure out what's going to happen with the kids, and how his recover is coming along. And if I have lunch with him, we can cover those topics over food, and I won't have to see him for another week or so. This is a good idea.

"Do you want to get something to eat? I'm starving, and I doubt the hospital food is any good..."

He nods his head silently, and the elevator dings and we step out. I would take him through the ER, but that would be pushing everything too quickly. Instead I take him out the side entrance, over to the parking lot to find my car. Hopefully its still there. And its in one piece. That wouldn't be below the security to ignore the whole parking lot, and watch TV instead. I see my car in the distance and I start walking quicker toward it. I open the doors with my keypad and make my way calmly toward it. I look back at Carter, and he gives me a suspicious look. He looks at me and then at the car, then back at me. I think everyone failed to mention to him that he's loaded. And not just a few millions, a few billions would be more appropriate. Of course I'm worth nothing, but that's just a little side note. My condo is the most expensive thing I own. I didn't even keep the jewelry I had gotten from Carter. They were pieces that had been in his family for centuries. They were meant to stay in his family, he'll probably divide them between Amy and Millie in the end. I get into the driver's side and he slides into the passenger side in the front.

"I guess everyone failed to mention, you've got a bit of money."

He looks at me a little shocked, he didn't know about this end of the deal. Well hopefully Jack will be home by the weekend, and he will explain it better than I can. I have no clue where the Carter fortune came from. I didn't really care. I wasn't interested in the money, I never was. I can't stress that fact enough. I was only interested in John, but nothing ever works out how you plan it.

"What's your definition of 'a bit'?"

I shrug my shoulders as I pull out onto the street. I have no clue where I'm going. I'm thinking of going to eat at the café down at the pier. They have really good food, and you can sit outside. The weather's great, and I think Carter wants to be outside more than in some stuffy building anyway.

"A few billion."

He looks at me in disbelief. Yes. I would probably react the same way. Hell, I did react the same way when he told me. I see a little smirk forming on his lips as I pull into the parking lot at the Pier. I find a spot near the door, and we head out. We walk past the Shakespeare Theater, and walk outside on the concrete. Some cruise ships are lining up, and the wind is actually pretty slow today. It makes for a pleasant experience. We see little kids running around on field trips, and with parents. Some actors are dressed up as clowns and characters from books, entertaining the masses. We walk up the stairs and pass the mini-golf courts and the Ferris wheel. The merry-go-round is packed with giggling little kids, and we can hear screams from the old-fashioned swing attraction. I lead him toward the wooden gate to the outdoor patio, and we're seated within a few minutes. I see him gazing around at the Pier, the city, the lake. It's nothing to me since I've seen in over and over again, but it seems to be something completely new to him. I wish I could experience that feeling sometimes. We have some memories here, I don't know if I'm trying to get him to remember. We used to come here all the time in the summer at the beginning of our relationship. We would leave the kids with the nanny and we'd go out to lunch. We'd walk around some of the stores. It seemed like the ideal way to pass a Sunday afternoon, but I knew he hated walking around with me and would rather be somewhere else. After a while, I didn't like going because he hated it so much. So we stopped going. He spent his afternoons reading a book in the study or out riding with the boys. I would usually work on Sundays. I got my schedule flipped around. I think Amy was only about 11 years old at that point. We didn't have a moment where we realize it was all over. We kept on dragging the dead weight around for years and years. We thought it was supposed to be like that. We didn't want to admit to ourselves that we would have been better off if we had never met.

"I think I've got the kids down. Amy's the oldest. The twins are Jack and Rob. Jack's the wild, cocky one. Rob's the quiet, level-headed one. Ethan's the perfectionist, and Millie's the baby of the family, right?"

I nod my head. Not bad for four days. Although I've been with all of them for most of their lives, and so has he. I haven't had much of a time to ask the kids how their handling this. I have a different perception, since I've spent the last few years watching him change and forgetting him. But the kids have only grown closer to the both of us. They must be handling this pretty hard. I have to talk to them, I think I'll call the twins and Ethan tonight. Jack's living it up somewhere in Mexico, he's on vacation. Ethan moved in with Rob, since their attending the same university. Millie's staying with me, she's got a permanent room. I'll just wait for Amy to call me, I don't want to push her away anymore. So much to do, and so little time. I'm off for the next two days, so I might be able to fit in a few minutes to myself.

"How long have we lived in Chicago?"

"You've lived here your whole life. I grew up in Minnesota, and moved to the city to go to college."

A ship blowing its horn catches my attention, and I look over toward the water. It's calm and quiet, a perfect day to spend outside. Of course I'm not the only one with that idea, since the Pier keeps on growing with people. Our waiter comes, and I order my usual dish. I let Carter order and we both fall into a stressed silence. There's probably questions he wants to ask, the same questions I don't want to answer. My wine comes, and I take a sip of the sweet liquid. It's chilled, and exactly how I love it. one glass of wine will never do anything to me, it just starts when I'm alone at home, and I've got a bottle of wine in front of me. I haven't had anything to drink in a while, I don't drink in front of my children.

"How did we meet?"

Oh yeah, what do I tell him? I saved his life by telling his boss that I saw him shoot up? That he was in love with me for 3 years until he got the nerve to kiss me? That I spent the same amount of time with feeling for him, except that we were too afraid to do anything about it? And I bet the whole part about me ditching him to take care of my brother, and Eric crashing his grandmother's funeral will go down well. I don't even want to think about him running away to Africa, the break up letter, Kem, his first child . . . Oh we were doomed, doomed from the beginning and forever. Misery and pain just followed us around, well actually me. I think I sort of rubbed it off on him, so we both sort of hated life. I think he came to resent me for putting him in that position. I don't know. It doesn't matter anymore.

"We were doomed from the beginning. I was a drunk. You were a drug addict. We ended up supporting each other."

He stares off at the water, contemplating the words that came out of my mouth. That's the general story. He looks back at me, then at the glass I'm holding in my hand. He shoots me a guilty glare, and I instantly put it down and push it away. Damn it. Here we go again. He has no control over me anymore. I am not letting him get under my skin again. I am not going through all this again.


	12. Inexplainable

**_Author's Notes: Not writing alot because its been a long day, men are synonymous with morons, and I have a major headache... Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed!!! And enjoy the next chapter... Things start moving along..._**

He places the plate of steaming pasta in front of me. My plans didn't go exactly as planned. I had wanted to drop him off and then go home to get some rest. I ended up spending the whole day with him. First giving him a tour of the house, then the grounds, then he begged me to walk him through the pictures. I thought that it would help him get his memory back so I could leave and never have to see him again and the kids could have their father back. No such luck, of course. By four I was so tired, I told him I needed to lie down for at least three hours. He said he would make dinner. So here we are, in his kitchen, silverware spread out on the black counter, the whole room lite up. A breeze comes in from the open patio doors. I don't have a memory of him cooking dinner, rolling up his sleeves to actually do something that would allow me to relax. It had been only about five or six months since me and Amy sat in the same position, talking about a painful divorce. That's the reason I'm here. The divorce. I'm here because my kids have suffered enough, they need not suffer more.

"I'm sorry its just pasta, but I had enough trouble finding the pots and pans."

I shake his comment off, and dig my fork into the steaming entree. I'm starving to death. Lunch can only hold me over for so long. He sits down across from me and does the same, and we eat in a strained silence for a while. I want to finish dinner, and get out of there without seeming rude. I have this bad feeling that its not going to be possible.

"You know, I might still have that map you drew me when I moved in... I got lost every other night for a few months."

He lets out a small laugh, and the tension is eased just a bit. I don't look up at him, he sits starring at his almost empty plate. I'm halfway through my dinner, and I suddenly realize my appetite's gone. I don't know. This is all getting to me, I shouldn't have to be putting up with this. Doesn't a divorce mean a clean break? I play with the rest of my food for a few minutes until I finish about half of the remaining half, and push it away. I mutter a thank you, and he collects the plates, throwing them into the sink. He sits back down, and at the same time I pick up the glass of water in front of me. I sip on it slowly, hoping he won't spark any conversation. Maybe he'll suggest that I go because he's tired and needs his rest.

"You spent the whole day talking about our kids, but you never said a word about us."

Way to be subtle, Carter. Although I don't think he was aiming to be subtle. I think he wanted to throw me through an unexpected loop. And yes, it did work. Except I'll never let him know that. I know my body just tensed up, my mind doesn't freeze. I've been lying my whole life, I'm pretty good at it. Those little harmless white lies, of course.

"There is no 'us' anymore. The divorce went through in January."

"It doesn't mean that we don't have history. I had to have a reason to marry you. There must be a reason we stayed together for those twenty some-odd years. I'm trying to link everything together, and you're the only one from my past that's in my present. Explain it to me, because it doesn't make sense."

I shrug my shoulders. He's looking a bit agitated, but I think that's because he keeps on trying to remember his life, and its not working. I really want to go home. This is the longest me and him have spent in each other's company in years. I don't like the feelings that are going through my body. I'm not regretting anything, I just feel so uncomfortable. I feel like I'm letting a complete stranger into my family's personal life.

"I told you before, we were doomed from the beginning."

"It doesn't make sense, Abby. If there was never anything between us, then why did we stay together for so long? Why didn't we just split up before we had any children? You can keep telling yourself its explainable, but I don't get it."

It's all explainable if he only knew the history. If he knew both ends of the story. He probably thought I didn't suffer after the first time we broke up, but I did. I suffered through it all, because I thought I found somebody I loved. We were broken. We broke our relationship, and it could never be restored. Time only undid the threads and glue we used to piece it back together. He was never happy, he tried to convince himself and myself that we were happy, but we weren't. We were just slowly slipping away.

"We just had to work so hard at everything. Too hard. I think that at one point you convinced yourself that I was the right woman for you - reliable and safe, and I don't know, stable - but I don't think that's what you really wanted. I don't think you ever really wanted me. And then when we were finally together, it didn't become what either of us thought it would be. Maybe we even put each other on pedestals, I don't know. I didn't end up being what you expected. I never lived up to your expectations. We worked better unfettered, separate. We held on because when we realized it, we had three children. We wanted to give them a happy childhood. We faked our whole marriage. That's why none of this makes sense. We lied to our children to make them happy."

One big happy lie. That's what we were: liars. And very good ones at that. The people that knew about the divorce, didn't want to believe it. We were always together outside of the house, always smiling, holding hands. I think it turned into a game, make people want to be like us. The lie slowly turned into habit, while we spent more and more time away from each other at home.

"I've heard that before. Somewhere. I just don't know where."

Sure, Carter will remember a letter he wrote me almost two decades ago, but he can't remember his own children's names. That makes a lot of sense. Of course nothing made sense when it came to us. I push away from the table. I should get going home, this night is going to kill me, if anything. I make my way to the door, I left my purse on the desk by the door out of habit. I hear his steps echoing behind me. I grab my purse from the table, but he has an open window. He stands in front of the door, blocking my exit. Well there are about ten different ways to get out of the house. I'll just take another exit. I turn around to head toward the side door, but he grabs me.

"Don't... Don't go, stay here please talk to me. There's something about you, something I can't even explain, but I'm drawn to you. Something about you makes me want to know more. More about us. About what happened... What went wrong.. you were a part of me and I want to know why you aren't anymore."

I push him away from me. Now he remembers that maybe we might have had something? All those years of chasing each other, giving each other ultimatums, lying to each other about our feelings? Now he decides its about time that he tells me I might have meant something to him at one time or another? Not happening, not to me, not tonight, not ever.

"Yeah, well, not anymore. I promised to take you home. I took you home. If you need anything, call Rob or Ethan. They live ten minutes away. Don't turn to me, you didn't need me before. You certainly don't need me now. I divorced you for a reason, so I wouldn't have to pretend any longer. I'm done pretending. I don't want to be here. I don't want to be around you. I don't love you, or need you, or want to help you. Let me go."

He stops trying to follow me or stop me. I open the door and slam it straight in his face. He's probably going to stand there dumbstruck for a while. I don't care. He's a stranger to me. He's nothing to me. A small part of me expected him to run out the door, after me. But he didn't. He didn't the other time, so why the hell should he now? He's not pulling this stunt with me. I'm done. My daughter's on her way to Boston, my sons are back on track with school, and my Millie is probably bored out of her mind at home. I should pull her out and take her to a movie or something. I shouldn't have put Carter before my daughter like I just did. Now, I'm a bad mother too.


	13. Thinking

**_Author's Notes: I hate boys. Okay so explain this to me.... He tells me I shouldn't wait for him, that I should move on with my life... So he's pretty much saying he feels nothing for me... So yesterday... I'm giving him the mean silent treatment... All day! Then after school I'm walking toward my locker, he's walking out the door... He comes back after me... Why?! If he feels NOTHING for me, why the hell did he come back? I hate men. Synonymous with morons... Okay enough for my complaining and on to the chapter... Enjoy! And please review? Make me smile?!_**

So I vowed never to come here again, but it's been about a week and a half and Millie wants to see her father and her grandfather. I'm stuck taking her because she cannot drive, and I want to see Jack. I haven't talked to him in a while and I wanted to see how he's holding up. I pull into the driveway and turn the car off, leaving it by the door. The grounds were wet, it had rained like crazy the last few days, but today the skies were clear. I get out and pull my sunglasses up. Millie starts running toward Jack, who had just come out of the house. I follow her, although I'm not running. I've seen Jack so many times I know what he looks like. I reach him in my own time, and I lean over, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Hi dad."

He gives me a warm embrace, and then returns his attention back to Millie. Millie's closest to Jack, and I'm so afraid of the day he passes, because it will hit her harder than anything ever has. But for right now, he's not letting anything get in his way. He's active and he loves his grandchildren, and his children. I see Carter slip out the door and Millie walks over to him, somewhat awkwardly, and gives him a hug and a kiss. I hear him mumble a greeting, and he called her sweetheart. He always called her that. I don't know, maybe his memory is coming back. I look back at them, and that becomes doubtful. He's still really uncomfortable around her, and she can feel it. She moves back toward Jack, and he goes inside.

"How is he? Is he gaining any of his memory back?"

"Not really, he's doing things out of habit, but if I ask him about it, he has no recollection. He's still getting lost in the house. I would think it would get better, but it only seems to be getting worse."

I shrug my shoulders, sometimes things have to get worse before they get better, but I don't know if this will be one of those times. I look out around the grounds, skimming the trees and grass. It looks pretty nice, if the soil wasn't mud and more mud. Jack begins to pull the keys out of my grasp, and I give him a little struggle before I let go. He lets out a little laugh, and I instantly regret giving him the keys.

"My favorite granddaughter and I are going out for ice cream, we'll be back in an hour or so."

I watch them head off to the car, whispering something between themselves and laughing. I have this horrible knot in my stomach. He has five cars in the garage but he has to take mine. And I'm stuck here with the last person on earth that I want to be with. Its too late to do anything because they just pulled away and sped down the driveway toward the gates. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. I turn around and head into the house, I'll grab a drink from the kitchen and sit out on the deck until they get back. Or I could go to the stables and check up on the horses, although our groundskeeper takes very good care of them. I walk through the empty house, making my way toward the back patio. I heard movement in the kitchen, so I decided against my drink. As I walk toward the doors, I had to stop by the den. I mean the doors were wide open, pictures, boxes, letters, cards, everything was strewn across the room. It looked like a tornado had gone through the room, and I had to walk in. Every single photo album we have was out, little gifts, cards made in school from our kids to us, everything was out. Every table, desk, chair, and mantel was covered. I walk toward the main marble table, because some bright pictures caught my eye. Their pictures of the kids, but I"m in some of them with Carter.

I hear him enter behind me, but he instantly freezes. I hear his breathing speed up, but I don't really care at this point. He's trying to piece his life together, picture by picture, video by video, letter by letter. I don't know how successful he will be. He'll never know the truth. I pick up the first picture I see, and instantly I feel a small grin forming on my lips. I had some good memories with our kids.

"This picture, it was taken on Amy's second birthday. We had about twenty people over that day, the twins were only a few months old, and we had complete chaos. Everything was going wrong. Then one of the boys started to cry. I think it was Jack. He's always the troublemaker. But he woke up Rob, so you took him. The big mistake we made was we left Amy alone in the kitchen. She manage to maneuver her way to the counter. When we got to her, she was covered in chocolate cake. I gave you Jack, and I wanted to pick her up, but she threw cake at me. I finally managed to get her, but at that point, I looked worse than Amy did. That's when your father snapped the picture. So we had no cake, Amy and me needed to take a bath, two crying baby boys, and twenty guests outside. It was hell on earth."

I put the picture back down, skimming the rest of them. We had some really funny times. I can see Carter out of the corner of my eye; he's leaning against the doorframe, simply watching me. A little smirk was on his face. I haven't even thought about all the good memories in a long time. They usually get pushed to the back burner, we concentrate on the bad things, never the good things. I pick up another picture, Rob and Jack covered in mud.

"This one... This one was quite the adventure. The boys were just hitting puberty, I think they were around fourteen. Jack had a crush on this girl in his class, some cute brunette named Kathryn. Jack was a real womanizer then, too. I have no clue where he got that from. But the girl didn't like him. She couldn't stand him, she liked Rob. I think she was Rob's first girlfriend, but I can't remember. I know she was his first kiss. So we had the boys fighting over this girl for almost three weeks, until they finally snapped. We went out riding, and Jack thought Rob was trying to push him off his horse. And Jack being Jack, he pushed back. They ended up in the middle of a mud puddle, wrestling each other to death. We seriously thought they were going to hurt each other, so we pulled them apart. You were just standing there laughing, I think you took this picture."

I start to put down the picture, when his voice lets out across the room.

"So what finally happened?"

"I don't remember for sure, but I think the boys finally made up when Jack found some other girl to hit on."

I put the picture back where I had taken it from. I move over to the coffee table by the couch. I sit down, and I pick up the photo album on the side of the table. I can't remember the last time I had actually pulled out any of the pictures we took. We kept on taking them and taking them, but we never really looked through them. I guess we were saving them for when all the kids left us and forgot about us. I don't know. Pictures deceive, but for right now, I'm letting them deceive me. I hear Carter's footsteps on the wooden floor as he makes his way closer to me. He sits down on the couch, giving me distance. I put the album down in the middle of us, and I open to a page. I always have the best stories about Jack, he always made our lives interesting.

"This was the first Christmas after the twins had gone off to college. Rob stayed in state, but Jack went off to Yale in Boston. We begged him to come, but he said he didn't want to because his girlfriend at the time didn't have anyone to spend Christmas with. So we told him to bring her along. We thought she would be some innocent, unsuspecting, naive, petite blonde who was charmed by him. We were dead wrong. And to make matters worse, your mother and father were joining us. So the two of them show up, a few hours before dinner. She wasn't blonde, first off. She was some gothic chick, and she almost gave your mother a heart attack. She had long hot pink hair, black makeup, lipstick, the works. She had these like ragged black clothes and this incredible unnatural pale white skin. I haven't even gone into talking about piercing. My god, that girl had almost every part of her face pierced. We were so happy that relationship did not last long."

We both let out a strained laugh at the end. I close that album, and put it back on the table. I reach for the box by my feet, taking out another photo album. I open it and flip through it, pictures from the beach, the vacations we took. We lived such a great lie for all those years, anyone who picked up these pictures would never suspect that we barely talked, that we forced the sex, that we pretended to love each other. I keep flipping through the pages and Carter scoots closer to me to get a better view. I'll occasionally throw in a comment on the pictures, but we mostly sit in silence, letting our eyes figure out the situations. We have a very photogenic family. As we go through the albums, the closer we get to the earliest days. I reach the last album in the box. It's worn and tattered, pictures begin to fall out of it.

I push them back inside and open the book slowly. Pictures of me and John from the early days fill the first few pages. Some from the pier when we went dancing when my brother came around. I remember because that's the time I found out he was bipolar. I hate my family. There are some pictures of me and John from the Christmas party, they were given to me while he was off in Africa. That was a really bad time, that was the beginning of the end. But that was the only time I felt alive, I felt real, I felt happy. I believed him when he told me wasn't' going anywhere. I was stupid. I don't know what to think of anymore. I know the smile on my face is from genuine and true love, something I had begun to feel for the first time ever. But that doesn't matter. All good things end, especially love. It is never forever, no matter what anyone says, no true love ever lasts.

I keep turning, skipping a majority of the pages, I don't want to go back and think about what we went through. I don't want to remember, because I don't want the false hopes. I"ve held on to too many false hopes, and its not good for me. I open up randomly to a full page photo of our wedding. I'm in a flowing white gown, the wedding every little girl dreams of in her future. It was an elaborate occasion, since the Carter family was well known and respected. They gossiped about who I was and where I came from, I know half of them didn't approve. Jack approved, Eleanor didn't. Eleanor didn't have much of a say, she hadn't been in Carter's life to make a difference. The wedding was the wedding, I blocked out most of it over time. I thought it was the happiest day of my life, but I slowly realized over time, it had been the biggest mistake. I slam the book shut, throwing it back into the box. Jack and Millie are back. I get up as quickly as I can, Carter's body too close to mine.

I run out of the room, greeting Jack and Millie. I force a smile and he throws my keys back at me. I want to get out of there so badly. I want a night to myself. I just need to be alone. I slow my pace down so I don't throw any suspicion to what may have happened or how I'm feeling. I give Millie a kiss, and walk over to Jack to do the same.

"Okay Millie, we better get going. You were supposed to be at Katie's half an hour ago for that sleep over."

She says her goodbye to Jack, then screams out a departure to Carter, who was still in the den. Millie takes my keys and starts toward the doors. She starts pulling me toward them as Jack lets out a laugh.

"I'll call you tonight."

He nods his head and I see him turn toward the den as I continue to be dragged to my car. Millie's spending the night at her friend Katie's, so I'm lucky enough to get the place to myself. I have a long, relaxing bath planned as soon as I get home. Although I have this really bad feeling I'm not going to get any sleep. Another feeling tells me the tears that I've been holding in will slowly fall as I realize I'm alone in the dark.


	14. Turning Around

**_Author's Notes: Next chapter... Abby gets better slowly but surely... Trust me on this... Anyways I need to get back to reading "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" for AP Lang and Composition... Enjoy the chapter, while I enjoy reading about the fires of hell...So when ur done, just please read and review? Tell me what you like and don't like.. What you would like to see happen? Just any little bit of guidence would be great!? Thanks!!!!_**

I finish rubbing the rest of the suntan lotion onto Millie's back. I just went through the family; its an obsession I have. Skin cancer, lung cancer, breast cancer, you name it I'm probably worried about it affecting my kids. It's the last official day of vacation, although everyone's already started school. Labour Day. And the weather is actually cooperating with us today. Jack suggested taking the yacht out for a ride, we'll have barbeque some of the food we brought, and watch the last fireworks of the year on the lake. It sounded like a good plan, so we all joined in. Amy was flying in with her boyfriend, and I think they've been together for about a year and a half now, it seems to be getting pretty serious. Yet we've never met the guy, so I suggest her bringing him along. I wonder what he's going to be like. I hope she has more common sense than Jack. I think he's bringing his newest arm ornament along too. He said she was a redhead, that's a change. I let Millie wander off with her friend Katie, since everyone was bringing someone along, I let her bring along her best friend. I see Carter and Jack walking toward me, talking about something quite intensively. They suddenly drop the conversation and head over to me. I wonder what they're talking about. Probably me. But whatever. I'm used to gossip, I work around it. I see Jack start waving toward the dock, and I turn. Amy's figure comes into the distance, dragging a tall brown haired man along with her. No wonder Amy keeps him around is all I can think about. He's a catch. She's looks great, dressed in a pair of white pants and a beige top. He's in a pair of black slacks and a polo shirt. Even from the distance, he looks very presentable. I think my girls have great taste in men. I mean John wasn't the worst thing to come along either. I see Amy give her purse and sweater to Brandon and break out into a quick run. He calmly walks up the dock as Amy practically dives into Carter's arms.

"Hi princess."

She has her legs wrapped around his waist and her head is resting on her shoulder. I put down the things I had been holding and head over to Brandon, someone who looks very confused and uncomfortable. I meet him at the doc, and help him through the door.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Abby Lockhart. I'm Amy's mom."

"Dr. Brandon Kennedy. Pleasure to finally meet you."

He takes my outstretched hand and shakes it, loosening up the second he knew what was going on. I take Amy's purse and sweater from him, I'll put it near the rest of the kid's things. He follows me toward the bow of the ship, where I saw the three of them heading.

"I'm sorry for Amy's reaction, but as you know, we've had a tough family situation lately."

"Yes, I know. I'm sorry about that. Amy told me what happened to her dad. Has his memory improved any?"

I shake my head no, even though I've spent a fair amount of time with him. I've gone through pictures and movies, cards and letters, memories and recollections. Anything I could think of, sitting with him late into the nights a few times. Nothing works, nothing at all. He's gone, I don't know if he'll ever come back. I eventually gave up and tried to teach him the stupid things the kids love. Some of the nicknames, their habits, their hobbies, things he used to do with them, things they would joke about. Somehow he caught on, and Rob and Ethan have been more comfortable around him. He may not understand what he's talking about or doing, but at least the kids feel like they have part of their father back.

I lead Brandon toward the group, then break away when I know he'll make it there alright. I head back toward the front of the boat. I'm not in the mood to socialize. I don't know what it is, but I think it's work, and dealing with the kids, and Carter. I've had to do everything by myself. Jack's helped out a lot, I can't say that my father-in-law isn't there when I need him. He's been a saving grace throughout all of this, but I know that he has his own life, and his own commitments. He can't always hang around and take care of everyone anymore. He's getting older, he should be relaxing somewhere in the Caribbean or something.

Then there's my patients. I hate getting so close to some of them, but its hard not to when their simply kids. I had this thirteen year old girl yesterday, she was pregnant. She didn't want to tell anyone who the father of her child was, but finally she broke down with me. She told me her stepfather raped and abused her, the baby was his. I had to work with DCFS all night to get her placed in a home that the family wouldn't find her. I tried calling to find out what happened with her, but the office was closed.

I don't know what I would do if I gave my kids that type of atmosphere. Thankfully, my beautiful children grew up healthy and happy. They had all they wanted, but they aren't spoiled. Their down to earth and levelheaded. I think a part of that was because I grew up with nothing. I had half a father for seven years, then none at all. He ditched us, and I never wished that kind of life upon my children. I wanted them to have everything in the world. Carter felt the same way, it was probably the only thing we ever agreed upon. Our kids always came first. He was the perfect father growing up. He would play dress up with the girls if they wanted him to, he would play baseball with the boys whenever he was free. He gave them the childhood he had always dreamed about. I can't regret anything about that. I just wish I realized before we dived into each other that a marriage wasn't just about taking care of the kids. It was about an equal fifty-fifty relationship. It was about talking things and working through them. It was about being able to stand in the same room as your spouse. Life's funny like that. It never works out the way you want it to.

That's how I spend most of my time anyway lately, thinking. Thinking alone at home. Millie's around, but she's been between vacations with Jack and hanging out with her friends. We still talk a lot and watch a movie or play a board game, but I don't think that she really wants to spend time with me. She's a teenager, I don't think spending the whole time with your mother counts you as cool. I don't mind the silence. I grew up with it, and now I enjoy it. I've found the front of the boat is a lot quieter than the back, only because everyone is out there. I've sort of disappeared from sight all day. My boys have come and gone, Amy's wandering around telling her boyfriend stories, and Millie's getting into some mischief with Katie. I know the drills. I've done them all before. But at least now I can sit here and relax, the only plans I have for the day. I want to let my mind wander in circles and tired itself out. I want to be able to sleep at night without the aid of some pill or my

bottle. I might as well get a head start on my thoughts.

The yacht skims over the water, a gentle rocking easing everyone's worries but mine. We go around the arena, and then further and further into the lake. We keep the shore in view, but we're out in the middle of the water. It's tranquil, nothing more than that. I spent most of the time sitting by myself on deck, while the rest of the family sat in the back, talking and laughing. I wasn't in the mood, and I didn't feel like killing the atmosphere. I went to eat with them, but besides that I've been alone for a better portion of the day. Jack brought me a glass of wine at the latter portion of sundown, but I've been keeping it in my hand. I haven't had a drop. I don't know why either. I think that tonight its not going to make me feel any better.

I see the first traces of the fireworks coming up, brilliant colors over the water. I suddenly notice that there are more people on the water than there were before. I stand up from my chair, leaning against the railing and simply watching the colors spread across the water. It looks better. There are wrinkles and waves, the colors blend and dissipate in the darkness. It's funny how something so quick and simple can bring so much joy to people. I bring the glass up to my lips, but there's something forcing it back down, forcing it away from me. I finally give in. I'm not going to drink. I'm not going to give in, this one night. I'm with my family, the family everyone has always been jealous of. I can handle it. I turn the glass over and pour the bittersweet liquid into the water, letting it spread out and disappear. I put the glass back on the table by me, hoping it will not shatter, although I'd like to smash it to the floor, let the broken glass break my skin and make me bleed. I want to feel something, anything. I'm numb at the moment, and I hate feeling this way.

I lean against the railing, the cold wind hits my face and sends chills down my spine. My eyes close on their own, searching for something, but not being able to find it. I could stand here for hours, days even. I'm the only one in the world, and when I decide to give up, there's no one left to criticize me. It's a feeling of freedom. I feel a warm hand cover my own. I jump for a second, but I don't think he realized. I know who it is. I don't have to open my eyes to know that touch. It's a part of me, inside me forever.

"Abby... Please... Let me in..."

I push his hand off mine, turning around and walking toward the back. Everyone's watching the rest of the amateur fireworks. I expected him to follow me, but he didn't. He's just standing there, watching me walk off. What the hell does he want from me? Who the hell does he think I am? I'm a part of his past, not his future. I wish he could just leave me alone. I think everything would be better if he would leave me alone. I know that won't happen, it can't. His children are my children. They weave our lives together, forever and always, no matter how much we can try to separate ourselves. So for the sake of the children, as always, I walk down the stairs, smile plastered to my face, pretending another perfect night as the perfect family.


	15. Simply for Survival

**_Author's Notes: Yes. I finally updated. Sorry I haven't. School crazy. Guys morons. Me stressed, sleep-deprived, and overburdened... But here's a fun little chapter I especially enjoyed writing... So please review and make my day?_**

I feel my daughter's body lying halfway on mine. I wish she would let me sleep. I'm dead tired. Forty hours in the ER is enough to kill a person, or make them consider suicide. Her hands push my aching muscles, and her head makes my head pound. I do not want to get up, I really don't. I know I promised Jack we would be at the Charity Gala, but I do not want to go for anything. My head aches, my back hurts, and there is no way I'm going to be able to get myself together to look presentable, and smile, and look like I really want to be there. Because I really don't. She keeps pushing me and prodding me, I keep pulling the pillow over my head. Her whining voice is driving me up a wall. Anybody want to toss me a bottle of Aspirin? I push her off, and I stand up, just to have the ringing phone to add to my list of things pissing me off. I grab it off the receiver, and Jack's voice questions the speaker.

"Hey dad."

"Abby, I need to be at the hall an hour earlier. There's some malfunctions going on. I know you're not ready, but Millie probably is. I can take her and let you sleep an extra forty-five minutes, but you would need to pick up John on your way to the hall."

Well an extra forty five minutes of sleep for the sacrifice of taking a ten minute drive with Carter. I'll take the sacrifice. I need my sleep. I hear Millie walking around outside in her heels, she is definitely ready. She hates getting dressed up for these things, but I know she loves to please her Grandpa. She'd do anything for him. I turn around and turn the light off.

"Sounds like a deal. I'll see you later."

I turn off the phone and throw it against the other pillow to my side. I don't care. I call Millie into my room to give her a run-through. She walks in, she looks absolutely stunning. She has a black dress on, low heels, and hair down on her shoulders. I approve. I greatly approve. I wish I could just throw on any old dress and look fabulous in it. I never had that talent.

"Grandpa's going to be here any minute. Take a sweater, take your keys, and stay close to him."

She rolls her eyes and nods her head. She walks over to me, giving me a kiss and covering my body with the rest of the blanket I kicked off halfway. Too bad she didn't just let me sleep. That would have been so much nicer. I see her lean over and set my alarm clock, I need to be up in about forty minutes now.

"Bye baby, I'll see you in a while."

She heads out the door, and I hear the clank of the lock as she makes her way out of the house and down into the lobby to wait for her grandfather. At least that's one less thing I need to worry about. She'll have a great time with Jack. I lay back down on the pillow. My eyes are closing without my consent, but that's what I get. We need a new resident or attending. I keep telling Kerry that, but no one listens to me. I'm just a slave. A slave that is deprived of everything. But most importantly, sleep.

The alarm buzzes, and I want to shut it off and continue sleeping. That's not an option. Jack would kill me if I didn't show up. Well, not exactly kill. I would need a really good excuse. He might get a little mad at me though. These things mean a lot to him, even more so now. Well whatever, it comes with the family. I've been dealing with this for as long as I can remember, one night a year isn't going to kill me. It makes Jack happy. So let it be. I roll out of bed, and straight to the shower. I don't have time for coffee, or caffeine, or a cigarette. I hop into the lukewarm water, quickly wetting my hair and running the shampoo and conditioner through it. I lather the sponge and quickly skim my body. I don't have the time for a nice long shower. I get out, drying my hair as best I can with the towel. I grab the dryer. No one would approve of the way I blow dry my hair, but I don't care anymore. I'm going to twist it into an up do anyway. I dry the roots to the ends, then brush it out a few times. My hair is weak, and its starting to come out more and more. I can't do anything about it. I don't want to. I put it into a French Twist and put in a black barrette. It looks decent.

I throw on some eyeliner, lipliner eyeshadow, mascara, and a little foundation. I don't care, I have no one to impress. I glance at the clock. I have fifteen minutes before I have to be out the door. I check my reflection in the mirror. I look fine for my age, my status, and my occupation. Those bags under my eyes are definitely not going away anytime soon. I go into my closet, pulling out my black dress. I have a few, but this one is my favorite, and I know I can still fit in it. I step into it and pull the zipper up along the side. I take my black heels from the door and slide into them. I take a glance at myself, fully clothed and ready to go. I look just presentable. I grab my shawl from the bed, and my purse from the counter. Out the door I go.

So the ride to the mansion isn't a long one, but the weather is being a pain. The sky is overcast, and its extremely chilly, even for the end of October. It takes me about thirteen minutes to get to the grounds, and I pull up in front. I would be expecting him to be waiting, but of course he's not. I turn off the car, and get out. I'm getting a little annoyed. I do not want to be here, I don't' want to be going to the gala, and I don't want to see my ex-husband. I don't' want to pretend I like half the people I meet, and I don't want to be wearing clothes that make me chilled to the bone. A roll of thunder makes me jump a little before Carter opens the door.

He's dressed but still fussing with his tie. I put my keys down on the side table, my purse still on my shoulder. I push him into the kitchen in silence, I need light to tie the perfect bow. I push his head up and quickly do the loops, pass it through, and pull. It looks good. I haven't lost my touch yet.

"Ready?"

He nods his head and I start toward the door. He grabs his suit jacket and follows on my heels. I open the door and before I walk out, turn the lock. He follows me, and I let him pass me before I shut the huge doors. They make a satisfying clunk, and I start toward the car. I pull open my purse, reaching for my keys. We're running about five minutes late, but I don't think that Jack is going to mind. I pull on the round part of my key chain, but instead my lipstick comes out. I'm freezing now. I put my purse on the car, emptying out the contents. I never knew such a small purse could hold so much useless crap. And the one useful thing I need, I can't find. I turn the purse upside down. My keys aren't in there. My keys are not in my purse. I must have... Damn it. I left them on the table by the door. Damn it.

"I left my keys on the table. Do you have yours?"

I see him suddenly freeze, and then look at me with this astonishing gaze. I'm going to take that as a no. What kind of grown man leaves his house without taking his goddamn keys? What is he? Like three years old again? Damn it. It's freezing. I hear a loud crash of thunder, and I look up just fast enough to see the sky light up, and suddenly everything becomes grey. Then wet. Its pounding down on me now, just because the fates hate me. It's those huge water droplets that hurt like all hell when they hit bare flesh, and there's quite a bit of it on me right now. I should have brought a coat or a sweater, anything better than what I have right now. So we're stuck in the pounding rain, in the middle of a thunderstorm, without any keys to the house or to the car. Just my day. Just my wonderful life.

"I think the back door might be open."

God, he finally thought of and said something useful. I look toward the edge of the house, it's a nice little walk through grass and mud, no shade, nothing. He's a moron, he's such a moron there needs to be a better word for it. I feel my hair setting down my shoulders, dripping the freezing rain down my back. Everything's clinging to my body, soaked to the core. I'm actually shivering now. I'm not standing here any longer. I start toward the backdoor, and then realize heels were never meant for wading through dirt. I don't care anymore. I want to get inside, in a nice pair of sweat pants. I am not going to any gala, I am not going anywhere but home. I will probably catch pneumonia.

With every step I take, it seems to get hard and faster. The wind just picked up. Great, wonderful, just what I hoped for. I see the lights from the kitchen flickering on and off, but at least they are there and I know how far I have to go with this idiot behind me. I start to almost run, I'm going to fall into hypothermia pretty soon. God why did I decide to come here? Why did I decide to do this? I hate my life, I hate Carter, I hate Chicago weather. Damn it. The doors are within distance, only a couple more feet. The lights are out, the generator never got fixed either. So great, the house is going to be without any power for at least a few hours. I look up at the window.

Then I suddenly see the sky, with a rippling pain shooting through my right leg, my butt, and my back. My ankle is throbbing as all hell, and the moist ground underneath me tells me I'm on the floor. It hurts. It hurts as all hell, and I want to get out of all this so badly. I want to go home and never get out of bed, ever again. I close my eyes, the tears welling from pain and frustration, I can taste blood in my mouth. I either bit my tongue or lip, I'll place my bets on my lip. I try to pick myself up, but I can't make it. I can't do it, the pain is ripping through my body in waves, I suddenly feel lightheaded. I think I broke my ankle, and that's not the diagnosis I want to give myself.

I feel Carter's arms wrap around me and I'm suddenly holding onto him for dear life. His body shields me from the pounding rain, and I'm digging my nails into him, trying to bear the pain that's sending me into spasms.I can't feel anything anymore, the pain is all I can think of. The cold is making me shiver like never before, I can't do this. I can see the door getting closer and closer until I can't see anything but blackness and everything begins to blur, and fade away....

My eyes open, and suddenly a fit of pain shoots through my right leg. I sit up more, I'm on the couch. I'm in the mansion. I'm surrounded by candles. I was kidnaped, raped, and now left for dead. I just know it. I lean up more, and I get a slap of cold, wet hair against my neck and back. I jump up, digging my ankle against the sofa, and suddenly I let out a frustrated, painful sob. I can't help it, I don't care anymore about what anyone thinks. It hurts like nothing has ever before. I have no clue what's going, the last thing I remember is rain. And Carter. I look around but I can't find him. A blanket covers my body. Oh god, do not tell me he undressed me. I reach under the covers, I'm in a set of dry clothes. What in the world is going on, someone please get me out of this hell. I try to sit up, but my ankle prevents me from doing that. I hear footsteps coming into the room, and suddenly Carter walks in, candle in one hand, a cup of some steaming liquid in the other. He walks closer to me and sets it down. I look at him, at the room again. The fireplace is on, warming it slightly. But I'm still freezing. The blanket I have is not enough. He sits down on the opposite edge of the sofa, and he takes my foot into his hands. I want to kick him, but it hurts to move it at all. He's not worth the spasms of pain. He presses on the bone, by the muscle. Things I've done millions of times before, and so has he. I didn't think he remembered, I don't know what to think anymore. I don't want to think anymore. I see him reach toward the table and take some gauze. He centers my foot gently, I'm more concerned about what the hell he thinks he's doing that the throbbing pain. He wraps it up tightly, and puts a pillow under it to elevate the blood flow.

"It's not broken. You twisted it pretty badly."

I'll make the judgement call myself. I actually remember the hell that was medical school. But right now, it hurts too much to lean forward. If you want to take care of me, drug me! I need some type of pain killer; Advil, Tylenol, Valium, Morphine. Whatever you got lying around will be just fine with me, but make this pain go away. And turn the heat on for Christsake. I think he wants to kill me so he can take the kids and sell them into white slavery or something. He wants to see me suffer then die. I see the room starts to spin a little, and I lie my head back down. I see him appear at my side, kneeling by me. He pushes away the wet hair from my face, and his hand skims my forehead. I have a fever, I know I have a fever. Its because its like below zero outside and freezing inside, and my body wants the warmth. I need heat.

I watch him walk toward the hallway, and a few second later he returns with a blanket in hand. He throws it over the one I already have, but it does nothing. I'm still freezing. I'm still hurting. I'm still cold and wet and hungry. I'm still alone and miserable. I'm still here. Why am I still here? I think the fates are against me. I mean if they wanted to kill me, they would have done it already. But they don't. They think it's fun to torture poor Abby. What did I ever do to them? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I try to wrap my body into the fetal position, but I can't do it. My back hurts as much as my ankle does. I see Carter sitting on the floor at my side, starring off in the fire. For a second, a split second, I might feel a little pity for him. All he was trying to do was help me. Okay, so I can give in tonight and be nice to him, right? It won't do any harm. But tomorrow morning, I'm yelling at him for being a complete idiotic stupidass and not having his keys. If he hadn't forgotten his keys we wouldn't have gotten into this mess. What the hell am I going on about we? I wouldn't be where I am right now.

I scoot over making room for him on the couch, even though it's enough to seat four people comfortably. He notices me shifting, and turn around, giving me a strange gaze. I pull out the blanket over myself, and he slowly gets the hint to get on the couch before I change my mind. I let him stretch out his legs and I lean into him, his arms resting on my stomach. I'm lying on his chest, my head finding a nice, soft position and claiming it as my own. His body is warm against my freezing one, and I can feel myself warming up, even though my hands and arms are still shaking. No other reason do I have for spending the night like this except for survival. He blows out the candles, and the only glow in the room is from the fireplace. I feel his warm lips against my forehead for a second, before I slightly shift. I'm comfortable, but not that comfortable. He still is half a stranger, he still is my ex-husband, he still is a part of my forgotten past. I'll deal with it in the morning. Right now I need my much needed sleep. And my eyes aren't staying open another minute longer.


	16. Falling

**_Author's Notes: Awww.. You guys make me smile... Thanks for the positive push forward... Here's the next chapter... Please review??_**

I'm bored. I am unbelievably bored. I've flipped through every channel, read every article in every magazine I have in my house, and starred at my ceiling looking for imperfections for the last three hours. I couldn't find any, but I'm determined to find at least one. I thought I would be up in a week, but my body has to have that extra day just for kicks, just to torture me. I can put a little weight on my ankle, but it still hurts like hell. So I've been resorted to only walking when I really have. I hear a knocking at the door, and I start to sit up. My daughter comes padding out of her room to the door. She gives me one of those glares that say I'm supposed to stay on th sofa. Fine. She can answer the door. I plop my head back on the pillow and continue to stare at my pitifully perfect white ceiling. I hear her scream out daddy, and I pop up. Carter stands in the doorway, a goofy grin on his face. I watch him give Millie a kiss on the cheek, and he wraps his arms around her as they walk closer to me. I give him a forced smile, so at least Millie doesn't know about how much I still hate him. I really want to tell her how much of a moron her father really is, but that would be mean. I'll wait a few weeks.

"How are you feeling?"

I roll my eyes out of sight of Millie and then shrug my shoulder. Not bad for almost dying from hypothermia and a sprained ankle. I might actually be able to get back to work in a few days. Millie's starring up at him like he's some almighty and powerful god. Okay so I should bring her over to see him more often, but that's not my fault. I've been handicapped. Because of his idiotic self. I see Millie start back off toward her room, but then she turns around.  
  
"Daddy, can you help me with algebra?"

He shrugs his shoulders and takes her outstretched hand. She leads him back toward her room. I've been here, what? For the last week? And she hasn't asked me for help in anything, but as soon as daddy shows up, suddenly he's god and I'm the devil. Thanks a lot Millie. I hear her mumble something about me being grouchy. I am not grouchy. I'm bored, frustrated, angry, and high on painkillers. I'm not grouchy! The painkillers prevent me from being grouchy. I close my eyes, maybe I'll be able to fall asleep. Fat chance, but its worth a shot.

This is pointless. I've decided that after three seconds. I should probably get up and make something to eat, or at least something to drink for myself before I dehydrate. I hop toward the kitchen, holding on to whatever is around me. At least I'm getting my daily exercise requirements of the day. After a much needed hop-scotch game I get to the kitchen. I pull out a cup from the cupboard and place it on the counter. I hobble over to the fridge and open it, pulling out the carton of orange juice and getting to the cup. Then the phone starts to ring. Damn it. Why don't I have a phone in the kitchen? Damn it. I start to half run, half jump toward the living room. My foot starts to throb again, and it's like this jump-hop move to keep my weight off it. I come into distance of the phone, the same minute Carter comes shooting around the corner. He grabs it and hands me the phone, standing a few feet away from me, probably making sure I don't fall and kill myself. That would be a possibility here. I answer the phone with a quick hello. My brother's voice comes over the line. It's been a few weeks since I've spoken to him.

"Abby, it's mom. She killed herself."

The phone slips from my fingers, falling against the floor, the cover and batteries flying apart toward opposite sides of the room. I'm frozen in time, in space. I can't feel anything at that moment. So what if she was a bad mother, and I hated her more times than I loved her? She was still my mother. My mother who had us all fooled she was on her medication, that she was doing better. I can't believe this. I can't. It's not her. This is some cruel joke of Erik's. It's a game, something stupid to get me by their side. No, she still had time. She could have lived another few years, died of natural causes, anything but this. She's selfish, she's always been selfish. Why did I think she would change? Carter's voice knocks me out for a second, a concerned look etched on his face.

"My mother.... She's... She's dead."

I feel my knees give in, my body start to crumble, and his arms catch me, holding me up. Maybe he's good for something. I feel his one arm wrap around my back, as his other goes under my knees, picking me up. I lean into his chest, digging my head into his shoulder. He walks with me to the couch, and sits down, rocking me back and forth in his lap. I can't believe this is happening. I can't. This isn't fair. I wasn't supposed to get the phone call that my mother died because she decided she wanted to. No, the world doesn't work that way. People die in accidents, of natural causes, of old age, of ailments, cancers, AIDS, things that we don't have control over. Not simply because she decided she hated life. If I had the same philosophy I wouldn't have made it past ten.

I don't' even know when the tears came, I mean I never thought I would cry over my mother again. She wasn't a mother, she was a person. A person who simply hung around and decided to be a mother on her time off. I never had here there when I needed her. She was never there, she was off with some guy she met on the street, or painting crazy things, or designing clothes that no one in hell would wear. Or she was depressed, lying in bed for weeks at a time, ignoring everything around her. So what? She didn't need to eat, but her two children did. Who gave a damn about them?

I want to block it out, I'd rather feel nothing at all. I just want to be held, be rocked, be comforted. I don't' want to think of the reasons why because it hurts. It hurts more than I ever thought it would. I never through she would go through with it. I came so close to watching her die, and she never did. I became numb to it. And I want to be numb right now, I want to not feel anything. I want to not think about anything. I want to deal with this tomorrow, not tonight. I want this to be over. I wish this wasn't my life.

I feel Carter stand, and he begins to walk toward my bedroom. His hand keeps gently running up and down my back, but he says nothing. He knows nothing will help me. The silence is something I need, I want it more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. I look down at my hands in the dim light, they're shaking. My whole body is shaking, but it does nothing to phase him. His grip on me is as tight as ever. If only he could take away the pain I'm feeling inside.

He places my body down on my bed, and he slowly pulls the comforter over my shaking body. I roll up, oblivious to the pain in my leg, or the pounding in my head. His hand skims my shoulder, and I instinctively reach for it, pulling it in closer, pulling him in closer. I link my fingers with his as his body adds weight to the mattress. I keep pulling him closer and closer to me until his body is as close to mine as humanly possibly. He slips his arm on my stomach, my arm rests on his. I pull our hands closer to my body, trying to squeeze out all the pain. It's not working. I just want him here, I want him to hold me and tell me everything will be okay. I feel him place a feather kiss on my temple, the tears begin to fall once again. My body shakes, aggravating all the physical pain I'm feeling. He breathes slowly and calmly, a rhythm that I can't follow. I don't know how long he'll be there for; I don't' know how long till I will stop crying; I don't' know how long the moon will shine through my window. I don't know anything anymore.


	17. Catching

**_Author's Notes: Double post for no apparent reason.... Enjoy.. Please review...._**

I watch the waves hit the rocks below me, my body leaning against the cold metal railing. The waves beat angrily against the cement, almost a reflection of everything I feel inside. The skies match my disposition: dark and grey. The temperature keeps on dropping and dropping, but it's not going to move me from my position. I've been here all day, I can't stand to be around anyone. My kids never knew my mom the way I did, they met her once or twice. They were able to put a name to face, but that was the extent. I didn't want them going through what me and Erik had to. I knew my mother better than anyone else did. I hated her for all she was. I hated her for being my mother. She put me through every hell imaginable. She made me see life for what it really was, and sometimes for what it wasn't. There were days I wanted to my life to end, and there were nights were my life almost did. I have memories, but their not the kind everyone wants to have. I have one or two good ones, but the rest, the rest all harbour pain or fear. I remember hiding in the closet after she chased me with a knife. I remember getting beat during one of her maniac episodes and having to make up a lie to hid the bruises the next day. I remember holding my helpless little brother and not being able to do a thing for days until she came back. I have all these nightmares, laced with a few good times, times when she was happy we were around. I never wanted to inflict any of that on my children, I did everything she didn't. I went against everything she told me was right. I pushed her out of my life. And now, now I might be able to regret that. She was still my mother, that would have never changed. I would have gone to her aid had she needed it. She was my mother. And now she's gone.

No one knew her like I did. No one will understand what I'm going through. I thought the day I got that phone call, it would be from a police officer, or a paramedic. I never thought my own brother would have to make the call. I thought I would feel different, liberated in some weird way. I thought I would feel the fetters and pains float off my shoulder. I don't feel anything but numb. I can't stay in bed all day, I have a family to take care of, work, bills, dinner to prepare. I have a life to keep control of. I wanted to, I spent three days lying in the dark. I couldn't turn into her. If I gave into that, I would be doing the one thing I wished she never did. She forgot about her family, forgot about us. She left Erik and me to take care of ourselves. I was never going to let my children feel unwanted or uncared for. I wasn't her.

The wind keeps on getting harder and faster with every passing hour. The sun is almost gone, world turning a black blue. No one else is around, I wanted to be alone. The wind makes my eyes burn. My cheeks are all red, if not from the tears, then from the temperature. I looked like hell this morning. My eyes were bloodshot, my skin pale. I slipped out before anyone else was up. They didn't need to see me like this. I was grieving for my mother, they didn't need to grieve for their own mother. I was going to make it through this, I was going to be okay. Maybe if I said it enough I would eventually believe it. It's freezing outside. I have nothing but a sweater on, my body shakes, my skin numbs. I don't want to go back yet. I can't go back yet. Maybe I should have buried her. I would have at least had the chance to grieve. I'm not even near my brother, no where near my family. I thought funerals were supposed to bring them together, it only seems to be tearing me away from mine. Is that what she would have wanted? One last blow as to say see, you'd never get rid of me? Damn it. The tears start coming down again, I don't have any control over them. I thought I cried all I could, but they keep coming.

I see a shadow approaching in the corner of my eye. I shoot a glance back, Carter's form coming into view better with each step. I've put him through so much in the last few days. My mother liked to see everyone suffer, whether they really needed to or not. He doesn't know who he his, his past or his present. He can't remember his children, thrown into an alien world. Yet he's been there for the last few days, always by my side. He's been there, even though he as no clue who I am, our past, or hell that we created. I wish I had my Carter back, because then I could be angry at something, channel all this pain through something instead of having to face it. I wish this wasn't my life. I don't regret it, but I would take a different one if given the chance. I don't get the chance so I just have to deal.

"Ethan told me I might find you here."

He slips a jacket over my shoulders, and my body accepts it quickly. Another shield from the bitter cold, another thing to build a layer. I need to keep building them, the mental ones keep tumbling, so if I reinforce them with physical ones, maybe I'll get somewhere. I can see his breath coming out against the shore. I lean forward, then give up, I'm not strong enough to deal with this alone. I need him right now. He may not know the reasons why and he might not understand. He may hate me in the future and consider me a burden. I don't care, I need to know that if I begin to fall, there will be someone out there, catching me. I turn toward him, leaning my body into his. My body is lifeless, I have no control. He wraps his arms protectively around me, the same way he always had. I still can't get used to the fact that the man I knew for so long isn't here anymore. I don't know if he would have been here right now. I doubt it. I think he would have told me the divorce was the end of us, just like my mantra went. This man, the same body, but a different mind. Something familiar in an unfamiliar place, even if its just his physical touch.

"I wish you were back with me... I wish you could understand."

I let out a sigh, my lungs suddenly heavy and my soul hurting. I practically have to force out every breath. My body's stopped doing every normal function. I thought I would be able to go back to work, do the things I did on a daily basis, but I can't. My legs won't move from this position, my skin has goose bumps from the cold but I can't leave. My eyes hurt with every blink, and my body hasn't stopped shaking. The tears keep coming and the hours keep rolling. Everything's a blur. The only thing I can do is stand here and be held up by the man that caused the other half of all the pain I have inside myself.

"I think that our families are out to get us... They either bring us together or pull us apart... It just seems that way..."

I shrug my shoulders, digging my head deeper into his chest, shielding it from the wind. My face feels like there are pins being repeatedly pushed through my face. I can't feel my hands anymore, even though I know their linked with his, finger with finger, warm hands against cold. I can't feel much of anything. I wish I was numb. I was I was too numb to feel, to cry, to scream, to suffer.

"You remember that time... When we had to go get your mother from Oklahoma? That drive back to Chicago? It was then, Abby... It was then, when I saw you hurting, when I saw how much it hurt because you loved your mother, regardless of what she put you through... You could love, you loved more than I've ever seen in my life..."

I look up at him, his eyes directed out at the horizon, at the empty, angry sea. I try to move back, almost instinctively, but I can't. I see him fumble for his words, searching for something to say. His mouth keeps opening and closing but no words are coming out. He holds me closer now, I can feel the change in the way his arms rest upon my back.

"I looked at you, the worry etched on your face. The sun playing on your skin, the wind teasing your hair... I realized I loved you... I loved you because of who you were, and everything you were... It was then, that I realized I couldn't live without you, I needed you... Those feelings never changed, Abby, never. They got pushed to the side: ignored, forgotten, masked. But underneath it all, under all the excuses, the lies I told myself.... You were the one, and you were right in front of me all this time and I ignored it."

I finally break away from him, looking up at him in the dim starlight. I'm searching for the truth behind his eyes. I'm searching for something to believe in, something to give me the strength to make it through the night. I'm searching for anything that might remind me of him, who he really is. I think I have him back. His thumb gently reaches up and brushes away the tears from my eyes, holding back the strands of hair that have come loose throughout the day.

"How... How long have you been back?"

My words are lost by the sound of the waves, but he hears me. His eyes are brimmed at tears, looking down at me. I can barely form a sentence, I can barely think. I don't' know how I"m supposed to feel. I wish someone could explain this to me.

"Monday."

I instantly push him off me, sending him into shock for a few seconds. I lean at him, my gaze keeping him at bay. He stands a few feet away from me, every step he takes closer, I take two back.

"So you lied to me? You spent the last three four days by my side... You knew I... You should have... Why?"

I don't have the energy inside of me to scream, or to argue. My voice started out a scream, and ended a whisper. He starts to talk in closer again, and I let him, but he pauses a few inches away from me, running his hand through his hair, biting on his bottom lip. His habits of life, those things that made him real to me.

"Because I wanted to see the real Abby again. I wanted to see the person I knew before all the walls came up again... I wanted to see you weak and vulnerable, because at least then I knew you were true to yourself... I just wanted you back, even if it was for one single minute..."

I start toward the stairs leading to the path. He used me, he took advantage of me, he was searching for a way in and he found it. Sure, just hit me when it hurts. It's not fair, my walls will never come down, they're permanent. His lies can't fool me anymore, his sweet talking innocense never tricked me. I just... I have to remember why I divorced him. We fell apart for a reason, and it definitely can't be blamed on a single person. It was the both of us. I'm running, I don't know where I'm running to, but I am. I know he's behind me. I know I'm running away, it's my turn to run away. I ran away from my problems, but I always came back. I never ran away from him and just left it that way. It's my turn to do that. His arms wrap around my stomach, and I can't move. I hit him and kick, but he doesn't' loosen his grip. I can't get away, I'm trapped.

"What do you think? That suddenly everything can be mended? We're unfixable... Dead... There's no hope for us."

His grip around my waist loosens, and he lets me go. He takes a step back, and I start to walk forward. The world is dark and dead around me. The only sound I can hear is my beating heart and gasps for air. I'm doing the same exact thing he did to me. I'm letting myself run away and never look back. Its taking all the energy I have not to turn around, and what will I do when that energy runs out? What will I do when I find myself searching for something I could have had, should have had? My feet stop moving, my heart stops beating. My eyes are closed, but my body walks. I'm running. I'm running back into his arms, ignoring all that my common sense is telling me. I'm in front of him, awaiting judgement, condemnation, anything... I won't get any of it. His lips play a delicate smile as they greet my own. My tears drip between us, the salty liquid moistening our dry lips.

"We're not perfect... I never wanted perfect..."

I lean into him for the second time tonight, and suddenly I feel whole for the first time in months.

"We'll work on us..."


	18. Brought Together

_**Author's Notes: I plan to finish this fic by the end of January. I promise. It's an easier fic to write for, and I have the major game plan in mind. Now all I need is someone to scream at me to update and write... I think Kat will gladly take that role out of my hands. Although I've been replaced, by not one, but two people I guess... But anyway if you could just drop a line and review, please? Tell me what you love and hate, that would be greatly appreciated.. Thanks... Oh by the way, in a normal book format, this fic is 106 pages so far in its entirety, and its not over yet... **_

I stand against the window, watching the water drip down the glass. The trees in the distance sway their branches angrily against the wind. The street lamps cast an orange glow upon everything in the room, including the sleeping figure on the bed. I watch his breathing cause the comforter that is wrapped around him to move up and down. His breathing is rhythmic, deep breaths in and out. I could just stand and watch him sleep to calm my own nerves. I haven't been able to sleep lately. I have no clue how I'm functioning at work anymore. The kids are suspicious of us, they don't believe everything's back in heaven. I don't know if they ever believed we were in heaven. I look back toward the garden, everything is bathed in darkness. All those beautiful blossoming flowers are now nothing but dead twigs. It's the way the world works. We're born and then we live and die. We touch a few lives, but in the end we are forgotten. Sometimes you manage to pluck a string that reverberates in eternity, somewhere, in that one heart. I feel his hands slip over my body, the warmth of his skin in a sharp contrast against my cold. He wraps his arms protectively around me, and I melt back into the sanctuary he has formed for me. We've physically been with each other, but our minds are other places. We haven't talked anything though, except for the necessities. I don't know what to do anymore. My head leans against his shoulder, my eyes are closed. We intertwine our fingers within each others, a simple action we haven't done in years. I can hear him trying to form some words to say, but nothing come out right. There's no words that can fill the void between us right now. So we're left in the silence that we've grown accustomed to. Or the sound of silence and pagers. I let out a sigh as I break away from our moment, grabbing the screaming and glowing box from my night stand. It's 911, the PICU. I reach for a pair of pants from my bottom drawer, Carter's eyes following my every move. I know he wants to go back to where we just were, but I can't. I have to get to my patient. I can't leave her alone. I see a pleading look in the dim light that the street lamp provides.

"I can't just leave her."

He nods his head, he knows this situation all too well. I throw on a sweater and search for my car keys. He reaches out for me, grabbing my hand and pulling me closer into him. My head rests against his chest, and his hands wrap around my waist. Suddenly I feel like I'm back at our beginning, when we couldn't keep away from each other. I used to lie awake at night and just think about how perfect he was, how much I didn't deserve him. It was probably my fault this marriage fell apart.

"Come with me."

He leans back a little, a bit of a shocked look on his face. I'd rather have him there for company. I don't think Hallie would mind either. I let him go as he grabs a pair of pants from the chair, quickly putting them on along with a shirt from the previous day. As he does this, I scribble a note for Millie, so she knows we didn't leave her as soon as she fell asleep, which she has accused both of us before. I'm not a big fan of getting up at 3:30 in the morning, though. He reaches me and we walk silently out of the apartment. As we make our way down the stairs, I feel him pull the keys to the car out of my hand. He can drive. I"m really not in the mood to drive anyway.

He speeds down the dimly lit streets and I close my eyes. It reminds me of the road trip we once took to pick up my mother. We revealed a few secrets, eased the tension, fell in love. It's all a memory now, but maybe we could find that chemistry that has held us together for so long. I wish we could just drive, drive into oblivion and never return. It's one of those fantasies I've had since I was a teenager. I wanted to steal a car, some money, and just drive from one side of America to the other. I wanted to ditch every responsibility tying me down. I wanted to be as free as the wind, unfettered as the breeze. It never happened. Responsibility always won me over.

The hospital's bright lights come into view and Carter pulls into the ambulance bay to let me out. I quickly tell him to meet me up in the PICU. A few weeks ago I got a patients, a little girl, only about six years old. She had been through so much, yet she was the sweetest little girl I had ever met. Her parents had committed suicide when she was five, and she was the one that found them. She had been through therapy and counseling. She was afraid of everyone, and when she first came into the ER, she was a little closed off. I managed to find some ground with her, and she began to trust me. She's been in the hospital for about three weeks, she's got a strain on pneumonia that needs to be monitored closely. She has her good days and her bad days. Today had to be a bad day. I saw her two days ago, and I was off yesterday. I make my way up the stairs, taking two at a time, even though I'm tired as all hell. I see Hallie's nurse, Grace, standing at her door. She starts a quick trot toward me and we meet halfway.

"She's on the vent. Her pulse ox dropped suddenly and no air was getting to her lungs."

She's done that twice before, but every time it gets worse. The doctors hate putting her on a vent because she always wakes up scared and agitated. And then she's on it for longer every time. The antibiotics seem to be less effective every single day.

"Is she stable now?"

Grace nods her head and hands me her chart. We start walking to the room as I flip through it. She's okay now, but she gave everyone quite a scare. I throw off my coat and put it on a corner chair. I walk up closer to her and take her hand, rubbing the back of it with my thumb. It's so tiny, she looks like an angel when she's sleeping. I hate to see her in pain. Grace deposits the chart into the holder on the bed and walks out; we've done the routine before. As I'm watching Grace walk out, I hear a shuffle of sheets and the monitor suddenly starts to beep. I look down at Hallie and she's waking up, startled by the tube in her throat.

"Hallie, Hallie, I'm here. Calm down, baby. You've got to calm down. That tube's helping you breathe."

She squirms a little more but finally she settles down. I push her hair away from her face, and lay it to the side. I speak to her in soothing tones, hoping to further calm her down. I tell her in easy terms what happened, and what's going on. She nods her head like she understands everything that's going on. She's mature for her age. She's been forced to grow up way too fast. I hear a knock at the door, and Carter's standing there.

"Hallie, this is a friend of mine. His name's John. Do you mind if he stays were with us?"

Hallie shakes her head no, and Carter comes in, going to the opposite side of the bed. Hallie looks apprehensively at him, but he starts to talk to her, and suddenly she's entertained by his funny voice and crazy antics. Carter talks to her, and she responds by either shaking her head or motioning with her hands. She seems to like him. I hold Hallie's other hand tightly, and she's not letting go. We both notice Hallie's eyes are fluttering closed and she looks really tired. I look at Carter and he brushes her light blonde hair out of her eyes.

"Hallie, why don't you go to sleep for a little. You'll feel a lot better, and when you wake up, we'll still be here, okay?"

She nods her head affirmatively and takes her teddy bear into her left arm. I hold her other hand, she feels safer that way. I watch her close her eyes, and within minutes the expression of deep sleep passes along her innocent face. Carter moves to my side of the bed, and he wraps his arms around my stomach. It feels weird to be held again by him. It's been so long, but it doesn't not feel right. It just feels out of the ordinary. He lets me go for a second and pulls a chair closer. He sits down and pulls me into his lap. We move closer to the bed, my hand still holding Hallie's. I lie my head down on his shoulder and he wraps his arms tightly around me. The physical contact is not unwelcome. We never used to, unless we were forced to pretend for the kids. But even then, there was always some real emotion behind every action. We faked a lot, we forced and pushed, but some of it still was real. I sit up a little, able to look at him. We haven't had a chance to talk, or we've avoided him. Either he runs, or I run, or we both run. Maybe tonight's the night to start probing those wounds. Maybe we can decide something.


	19. Tell Me No More Lies

**_Author's Notes: Awww... Thank you so much to: Smallville's Chick 1989, froggiezaz, CamilaC, Angel Dust, Carby-Always, britt, and Rox88... You guys are my stars :-) I got home from tutoring... And suddenly I have like five reviews in my inbox... Thanks so much, that made me smile... And here's the next chapter... You know me... I'm ahead by one chapter at the moment... Hoping to progressively move forward.. This fic is just really easy to write right now, so I'm going to flow with it and hope the inspiration stays with me... Thanks again!! And a little side note.. I changed my AIM screenname... Sorry I didn't say anything, it's SweetMisery973... So just pop a line out of boredom..._**

In the glow of the machines, I can see his dark brown eyes. The same brown eyes that used to captivate me. I think I just realized they still do. People change with time, their bodies become more fragile, their exteriors more rough. Emotional walls go up to protect from pain and suffering, but underneath it all, underneath all the lies and deceit, their the same person. They might have a different view on life, but the essential values are the same. I see the same man I married twenty-five years ago. He might be a lot harsher, older, wiser. He might have hurt me, destroyed me, and made me suffer. But he's the same man who made me laugh and wiped away my tears. He's the man that promised he would always be there for me. He's the one that held me when the world was against me. The basic things never change. He's always been there for me if I needed him. If I had chosen to turn to him. We made a lot of stupid choices, pushing each other away. We both presumed and assumed. Neither wanted a fight. So we just melted way, faded into oblivion. We let something that could have lasted just slip between our fingers, something we both could have held onto. I only have one stupid thought in my mind. One silly question I want to ask and am going to.

"What happened to us?"

He shrugs a little before putting his head on my shoulder for a second. He looks back at me and in the faint light I see his eyes glimmer with traces of tears. I take my free hand and rest it against his cheek, and he nuzzles my hand. He shakes his head at me, looking at me as if I held all the answers. I don't know where and when it happened. I know as much as he did. We just watched it slip away by the end.

"I don't know."

I lay my head back down on his shoulder and he gently kisses my forehead. I let Hallie's hand go and wrap around him. The chair's uncomfortable for two, but we're managing quite alright. He still smells the same way he did twenty five years ago. The light sent of shampoo, soap, and a touch of aftershave. I brush his cheek, a little bit of stubble starting to grow.

"So what now?"

I feel his trace a path along my back, we both don't know what to say. The silence adds to the uncertainty.

"Do you still love me?"

I pick my head back up, looking him in his eyes. I asked myself that question a thousand times when I was filling out the paperwork for the divorce. I asked myself if I still loved him. I responded no. Amy asked me if I still loved him. I said no. Now, the truth comes out. It hit me like a ton of bricks.

"I never stopped loving you. I thought you never loved me. I thought I was just a second-rate replacement."

"Replacement for whom?"

Our voices are the only ones on the floor, and it echoes through the hallway. I doubt the nurses are eavesdropping. I could care less if they were.

"Kem."

He pulls me in closer, and holds me tighter for a second. His thumb skims my cheek, and his eyes lock on mine.

"Kem was supposed to be my replacement for you... I couldn't forget you. I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you after we had coffee that one night, after I returned from Atlanta. I just saw you smile and I knew you were the one..."

I slide off his lap and stand a few feet away from him. I've heard some of this before. I'm not in the mood to be sweet-talked. Our marriage didn't end in divorce because we loved each other. There's other things, deeper things, worse things. Demons we both have that we need to fight. We need to fight them together or else our family will fall apart. We've kept it together, we've tried our hardest, we need another chance. Just one more.

"No, Carter, I don't want to hear it. Why did we fall apart?"

He sighs gently, and he digs his head into his hands, pushing his hair back and finally sitting with his body hunched over, his elbows on his knees, starring at the floor.

"Because I didn't trust you. I couldn't. I needed you, Abby, once in my life. And you weren't there. You were too preoccupied with your own family to give a damn about me. Trust's hard to gain, and once you lose it, you can't really build it back up without pain. I just didn't want that again. I never came to you when something was bothering me because I didn't know if you'd just push me away if something more important came up. And the more I did that, the more I realized I didn't talk to you. We didn't have that connection anymore... I knew you knew something was bothering me, but I would never tell you. You used to be the first person I would run to. You were my best friend, Abby... But that all changed, it changed when I ran away."

I suddenly look at him in a new light, the situation, at least half of it, has been cleared up. If we had only had this conversation decades earlier. We could have saved it, somehow. I could have known and fought. Something... Anything... I kneel in front of him, taking his hands into mine. I don't know what to say. Is there anything that I can say? He lets out a painful, forced chuckle.

"Your turn."


	20. Silence

_**Author's Notes: My reviewers, you guys rock!!! Thanks so much.... So here's the next chapter.. Enjoy! And as always please review?! Pretty please??**_

It's almost midnight and I'm sitting in my living room, watching the credits to a movie roll by. Millie's head rests in my lap and she's covered with a blanket. A mess of wrappers is on the table, along with an empty bowl of popcorn and two half-filled glasses of coke. I should probably get up and wake her to get her to bed, but I'm a little too comfortable. I play with her curly, dark brown hair, twirling it in my fingers. I used to do the same thing when she was a toddler. She wouldn't fall asleep unless she was with me. It was amusing, since I was still working then, too. I hear the lock turning behind me, and I turn my head. The door swings open and a flood of light comes into the darkened room. Carter quickly shuts th door and walks into the dark room. He places a kiss on Millie's head before asking me if he should carry her to bed. I nod my head yes and he picks her up carefully, not waking her. He probably wouldn't either, she sleeps like a rock. He takes her to her room, as I make myself comfortable on the couch, spreading my body out and covering myself with the blanket that had been on Millie. I reach over and grab the remote, turning of the TV. I put that down and then pick up the remote for the fireplace, turning the flames on. They shoot an eerie, orange glow throughout the room. Carter's shadow is visible, blocking some of the light. I move my feet to make room for him, but he walks right by, sitting down on the arm chair, behind me, to my side. Things have gotten better since we talked, but they haven't. We still don't know what to do with each other. It's hard trying to rebuild everything, we don't know were to start. I feel like giving in and giving up. I think he feels the same way. But we can't. I don't think that's an option, we're in too deep right now.

"I stopped by to see Hallie today."

I turn around and face him, he looks tired and worn out. He always does.

"Really? How is she?"

I watch him shrug his shoulders. She gets better, but then all of a sudden, she can get worse in a split-second. I pull the pillow closer to me and sit up a little, so at least I'm looking at him. An awkward silence punishes us both and rest my head against the arm of the couch.

"So what's going to happen between us?"

I guess he doesn't feel like wasting time on that topic. I shrug my shoulders. I'm too exhausted to have this conversation, but what Carter wants, he pretty much gets. And he wants this conversation tonight, so I don't think I have much of a choice.

"Optimism has it's place, Carter, but this should not have been one of them."

He looks at me with bloodshot eyes, worried expression. He makes me regret my words in a flash.

"I'm not being optimistic. I'm being realistic."

I start to peel myself off the couch, wanting to go to bed as quickly as possible. I stand up, starting to fold the blanket. I can feel his eyes beating into me, burning through me, almost if trying to will me to make everything go away, for me to be his wife again, for us to be like we used to be, twenty-six, twenty-seven years earlier. I throw the blanket on the edge of the couch and start to clean the glass coffee table from this night's adventures. I see him starting to stand in the shadows, and he stands behind me, but doesn't touch me. I can feel his warm breath against my neck, sending a shiver up my spine.

"I'm not perfect, Abby. I'm as flawed and broken as everyone else. I can't promise you the moon and stars, all I can do is promise you that I will never leave your side. I can't promise you happiness. I can't tell you everything will get better. Me loving you won't make the world a better place, nor will it fix all the problems in our lives. I can't produce some fairy tale ending. We've got problems, problems that we might not ever be able to fix. We've broken our relationship, long ago. We've just held it together with glue and tape, ignoring the cracks and pieces that have fallen off. You can go on believing its not worth it, that I'm a liar and a fool. Do whatever you want, but the truth is, I can't love anyone else, because you're the only one I've truly loved. I'm an old-fashioned idiot. I can try. I have. I've had my share of one-night-stands since you left. But nobody compares to you. I'd rather be alone than without you."

I throw the pillow I had been holding onto the couch. I stand there, drained and distracted for a second longer. His words are still registering in my head, his voice still playing on the waves of light through the room. I don't turn around and look at him. I take a delicate step forward, testing the ground, making sure I don't fall. I walk off into my bedroom, shutting the door silently behind me. I leave him alone in the silence. We both need the silence.


	21. No Way Around It

**_Author's Note: A really quick update, so thank you to everyone who reviewed, you are amazing..._**

Bright sun shines through my eyelids, I see a mass of strands of black against the light and I push my hair back. It's scattered all over the floor, moving hurts. I realize I'm on the carpet, a pillow thrown loosely to my side. My body's on the carpet floor in my room. I open my eyes, and they burn. I look at the mirror and my cheeks are red, my eyes heavily bloodshot. I thought it was all a horrible nightmare. I guess it wasn't. I pull my sore body off the floor, it takes so much effort I feel like collapsing on the bed and sleeping until infinity. I feel like I'm having a hangover, although I know I didn't drink last night. My head throbs and my muscles ache. I walk out of my bedroom, loosely putting on my robe, not even bothering to tie it. I look like a zombie. I walk toward Millie's room, but realize she's probably long gone. It's past eight in the morning. I've never slept in so late. I double check her room anyway, and she's gone. I walk into the living room, and that's empty too. I know he's not working today. We both have the day off. But he's not here. He might have gone back to the mansion. I look around for a note, and nothing. I see nothing, no sign of life from him at all. God, I feel like an idiot. He spilled his heart to me, and I walked away from him. I walk into the bathroom, grab the bottle of Tylenol, and then into the kitchen for a glass of water. I gulp down at least four tablets and pull the blinds in my living room. It's too damn bright. I lie down on the couch and cover my throbbing head with the pillow. I'm such a moron.

After about four minutes of contemplating, I get back up, not that I have much of a choice. I walk into my room and pull on a pair of sweatpants. I would take a shower first, but I think the shower can wait. I think I'd rather do damage control then look pretty for him. Although doing both would be a good thing. I find my favorite sweater and pull that on, not bothering with a bra, or combing my hair for that matter. I push it back under a rubber band with my hair. I grab my purse from the counter, my keys from the hook, and I'm out the door. My head hasn't stopped pounding less, nor do I feel any better. It's like some invisible force pulling me toward him and I can't cut the wire. I even know what that wire's called. My conscience. I pop down into my car and make the trip the mansion, avoiding traffic and swearing at the people who cut me off. Everyone's in a rush, they aren't any different. Finally I see the black iron gates in the distance, and I pull in. I don't see his car, but then he might have put it in the garage. I walk up the marble steps and ring the doorbell. It's not as cold as I thought it would, it is the beginning of December after all. After what I feel is forever, since my head throbs 30 times a minute, the door opens, but I don't see him. He leaves the door open and starts to walk away, and I let myself in. I shut the door behind me, throw my coat and purse on the chair by the door, and follow him.

Carter leads me into the kitchen and he sits down at the counter, cup of steaming coffee in front of him. He doesn't look too well rested, and judging by his cold demeanor, its my fault. I stand leaning against the doorway, debating whether entering is a good thing or a bad thing. I decide its probably the latter, but I need to go in, whether I want to or not. I walk in and walk up behind him, his name rolls off my lips lightly, like a whisper, and he pays no attention. Or he's purposely trying to ignore me. My hand rests on his shoulder, and he doesn't move. He just keeps on stirring his coffee, sipping it, and stirring it again. His eyes stare out at the garden beyond the glass doors, his mind probably in another world. My hand reaches for his, but he doesn't let me take it. He's as cold as ice, the temperature in the room has plummeted to below zero. Tension hangs in the air, I don't know what I'm supposed to say. So I go with the second best thing.

"I'm sorry."

He turns around, looks at me, and stands up. I see the pain and anger behind his brown eyes. I know him too well, I know his expressions, his mannerisms, his personality. His mouth begins to form words, but then he stops. All that was missing from his expression was his hands flying up in defeat.

"Sorry just doesn't cut it anymore. I've done everything I can, Abby. It's up to you. It's always been up to you. I'm not having a one sided relationship. I've given you every part of me, all my pains and worries, and you just laughed at it, like I'm some poor, miserable creature."

"John..."

"No, there's nothing left to say. I get the hint. You're just going to walk away. You always do. So go head. Run away. It's what you do best."

His words hit me like punches, straight in the stomach, and it hurts. He's never spoken to me like that. He's never yelled at me. If we ever argued, he would just walk away calmly. He's not to yelling. But suddenly, suddenly everything seems a lot different. We're not fighting about the kids, or some stupid little affair. We're fighting to save us. Even if we've both declared ourselves un-salvageable. It's a whole new ballgame, it's a whole new concept. It's allot more painful, less hopeful, and without as many promises. And he seems to be giving up, trying anything, everything to pull us through this. It doesn't seem possible anymore. It doesn't seem worth it. I'm not worth it.

I look back at him and he's standing there looking like a lost, miserable, lonely little child. His eyes are empty, his body giving into his mind. He doesn't move, neither do I. The words are still echoing through the room, bouncing against the walls, and coming back, circling around us.

"Abby, everyone in life is going to hurt you. You just have to figure out which ones are worth the pain."


	22. Logical Response

I'm sitting staring at the pictures on the mantel of the fireplace. A fire glows gently beneath it. Carter's words still echo in my head. I don't know what I was thinking, coming all the way here. He doesn't want to seem me, or hear me. I should just keep out of his way, from now until forever. The divorce papers were signed long before he had his heart attack. He signed then knowing fully what he was doing. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't let myself hurt again. I don't' think it really matters anymore anyway. I pull the blanket closer to my body, wrapping it over every crevice, trying to form a cocoon. I'm not that cold, it just feels nice to have something to shelter me against the impending storm. My mind drifts back to the pictures, too many to count, spread out all over the room. We're always smiling, laughing. We look perfect, if only you could look back and read what's on the minds of the people in the pictures. The truth, the broken marriage, the lies, the hatred, envy. All of it. It would scare even the toughest soul.

I don't know why I even try. It's pointless, worthless. Sure, my mind keeps telling me to go after him, to try and save what we have, but I don't have the courage. I should probably leave. He doesn't want to see me, and he definitely doesn't want me in his house. I don't run away. I just take time to digest information before I make a big mistake. I grab a pad of paper from the side table and a pen from the drawer. I can't talk to him. So maybe I can write to him, explain to him why we'd never work out, why this was such a bad idea. I hesitate a moment before deciding how to even start this.

_John,_

_You won't talk to me, but I feel you deserve an explanation._

I pick up my pen and it sounds too corny, too formal, too overheard. I don't want a repeat of the letter he once sent me. I don't think I could handle even thinking about it, what he wrote. I scratch out the line. I'll do what I do best nowadays, a list.

_Reasons Why I Should Walk Away_

_1.) This could never work, you have to believe me. It never worked before, it won't work now. What's happened in the past should stay in the past, but I can't forget the way you made me feel._

_2.) You don't trust me. You won't talk to me. I can't trust you. I don't talk to you. We lost that almost twenty five years ago, there's nothing left that could save us now._

_3.) We're divorced. We got that divorce for a reason. No, many reasons._

_4.) You hurt me. I thought you would be the only one that wouldn't, that wouldn't care about my faults or shortcomings. I believed you would always be there for me, no matter what. I was wrong._

_5.) We've grown apart. We're no longer the same couple we were twenty-five years ago. We've got different dreams, different plans. We don't have anything in common anymore._

_6.) For the kids, they deserve more than our constant circles. We just keep going in winding roads, that lead to no-where. It's a curse we've brought upon ourselves, and it needs to end. I want an end to all this._

_7.) I haven't changed, John. People don't change. I'm still the same person you walked away from before. You broke up with me for a reason. I know what that reason was, and I don't feel like going through that pain again. I'm still an alcoholic. I'm still a negative, miserable, self-deprecating person. I'm still insecure and protective. I'm the same old Abby, just in a slightly aged body._

_8.)You will never really love me the way you think you do. I'm not who you imagine or envision. There's no hope for me, for us._

_9.) Because I love you._

_10.) Because none of this will have any affect on you; you'll always come after me._

He shouldn't have to. He really shouldn't. There are so many reasons why I should walk away and never look back. I draw a line down the side of the sheet. Time for the other half of the story. The reasons why I shouldn't walk away. There can't be many.

_ReasonsWhy I Shouldn't Walk Away_

_1.) Because I love you._

It's as simple as that.

I fold the paper into a billion tiny pieces, then decide its too small. I unfold it and make it an acceptable size. Then I decide to just leave it open. I walk to the kitchen table and put it under an empty glass, in plain view. I take one last look around, and make my way out the door. I don't know what's going to happen. I don't know if he'll take my logical side, or my irrational side. I don't' know what he's going to say, if he'll even take the time to read it. I don't' know anything at the moment.


End file.
